


Better of two Evils

by DannyTadashi



Category: vampire - Fandom, werewolves - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-09
Updated: 1999-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11753652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyTadashi/pseuds/DannyTadashi
Summary: (Written at age 14)(Unfinished)(Continuity and spelling error may occur)With An apocalyptic world in ruin, a cop named Keith struggles with his past and loss of his wife while seaking to find her killer, as time on earth runs out.A young man named Jake, gets caught up with a secretive group of rebellious vampires while trying to survive and find the secret city of Haven, the last safe place on earth.Keith's Mission will entangle with the vampire group, in a frenzy of betrayal, trust, violence, and identity.





	Better of two Evils

THE BETTER OF TWO EVILS 

The near midnight chill of a summer evening creeps into her room, shroud in the darkness. The air is cool on her skin as the window lay wide open, and the breeze runs across her back like a brush of silk. Only about half covered by the thin sheets of her bed, she sleeps lightly under the lit streetlights that pour through the open window. She appears in her mid twenties, but could be much older. Her hair is red like fire, but soft as the pillow she lies in so deeply. Darkness is to yield to the bluish shadow, that blankets the interior of her cozy, and much too quiet apartment. A soft creaking of a door far in the distance nearly catches her attention, but fails to wake this sleeping beauty. A man enters the apartment. Silently, trying hard not to wake her. A complete stranger. A predator. His boots click softly, moving slowly, stealthily towards her room. But not before he shuts the door tight, and locks it. A black, house-cat wakes and adjusts his ears to listen in on the noise of the man, but hears nothing worth exploring. For he doesn't even know the man is here. Perhaps a mouse? The noise baffles the feline, but he thinks little of it, and returns to sleep. The darkness of the hallway to her room seems so desolate, and the constant tick-tocking of an old grandfather clock provides cover for the man, to which he can pace himself in every second tock, and take another step. Yet, just another step towards imminent, befalling fate.  
His appearance is not of that of a homicidal killer, nor a psychopathic pervert, but that of an honest man. He is tall, with very short brown hair, and handsome sharp features. His only flaw, three parallel scars on the left side of his neck, closer to the back. Two short, the center one longer. Completely healed over, in a new layer of discolored tissue, but never forgotten.  
His long, black, English trench coat hides his missionary-like objective, and hangs off his shoulders loosely, revealing his red rib shirt and black jeans. His black boots tap on the floor with every horrifying step, and nears her room slowly, carefully. Peering around each corner like as if his life was in danger, he managed to reach her bedroom. The light of the city below leaves a dim shinning on the ceiling, and the man exhales slowly as he gently enters her room.  
He notices, as soon as he enters the room, that she is not what she appears to be, and steps onto the elaborate weaved carpet, to which the sound of his walking is no longer heard. She had recently died her hair that color of red, and has adopted a new identity, just to bury her old one to this world. His breathing is soft, like hers, but the sounds of the street below hide most of that, now. Only he notices this. Covered by the sound of the street, he sighs. He knows now, that he could be less careful. Or so he thought.  
He cautiously took a wooden chair from behind her desk, which was scattered with make-up and brushes, and propped it up on an angle on the wall at the foot of her single-sized bed. From here, he could watch her sleep. From here, he would not be in danger. Yes, he feared her. But this is because he knows more than any man could, or wish to know. For this woman is not what she seems. He reached into his deep coat pocket and grabbed a cigarette. He put it in his lips, and reached for his zippo. Careful as he strikes the flint, the blaze appears at his demand, and both of his eyes watch her, instead of the flame, as it suffocates the end of his cancer-stick. With a longly coveted drag, the smoke bellows into his mouth and into his nasal passages. Like a dark gray pelage floating about, looking for a victim to choke.  
With one swift move, he slammed the zippo shut. Mistake. Terror. The exact instant, the young woman's eyes open. And he is in danger. Before she can even react, or even move an inch, the man withdraws his two shinning silver machine guns. Fire sprays out of the barrels like blood from an open artery, and small caliber bullets violently excavate and terminate the entire bed. Feathers fly in a chaotic blur, and the deafening sound of death on swift wings, come in long, spitting bursts. Each shell damaging, ravaging both flesh and the inanimate, until the defining fire comes to a halt, and is replaced by a soft clicking of an empty weapon. There is no movement in the bed now. Nothing but the great pools of blood that grow steadily, amassing in the center of the bed, where the red turns black.  
In a breath of relief, he drops his guns at his sides, and knows the danger is gone now. His life is no longer threatened. He knew that if he didn't kill her, she would have most definitely killed him. With those razor sharp teeth, extremely rapid reflexes, and phenomenal strength, she would have no doubt killed him without a hesitation. Her thirst, unquenchable. Savage.  
Like most Vampires. 

 

Chapter 1 (Nothing’s what it seems)

High above the rest of the city, the clocktower looked down upon the snow-kissed buildings. The powder swirled about and randomly twisted and turned on the breath of old man winter. The clocktower, completely stone and concrete, was elegantly decorated with magnificent gargoyles. Sinister, it looked at night. The two sharp claw-like hands seemed to reach out to the moon with a stone-cold grasp, and signified midnight's ire. A man emerged from the long shadow the tower casted and walked out to the balcony to sneer at the lights below. The winter wind brushed up against him as he folded up the collar of his long, brown trench coat. Concealed within, was the white, square patch embroidered into his collar on his throat. His hair was thin and barely receding, and was a slight shade towards gray. Apart from the familiar tint of the white falling snow. The man put his hand on the head of a gargoyle like a pet, as he leaned over the stone rail and gazed into the bright streetlights below. The snow floated down divinely like cold cotton balls, and clumped together to descend like heaven drizzling down.  
Distant sounds of quick footsteps gritted with the stone staircase and became more noticeable to the man on the balcony, as they reached the top. With haste, the footsteps stopped behind the thick, steel-braced wooden door leading to the colder outdoor balcony. The Priest blinked once, twice, and turned to look at whom was silent in the shadows. The wooden door languidly crept open. Creaking tiredly as it's moaning echo reached across the balcony. Only blackness and the silent puffing breaths of a child lingered beyond the door.  
“Do not be afraid, my child.” Said the Priest, as he peered into the shadowy doorway.  
The boy stepped out of the darkness, and walked up to the man. His shoulders blanketed with cottony frost. He immediately embraced into the man's welcoming arms.  
“I am afraid, Father.”  
The Priest asked simply. “Of what?”  
“The Demons.” The boy shivered.  
As the man let go of the boy, he held him out and took his first good glimpse of him. He was an older boy. About mid teens, with scraggly wet hair from the falling snow, and wet, pink lips. But the thing that intrigued the man the most, was the boy's deep, and frightened eyes. Blue as the deepest ocean. Cloaked in a hooded sweater, the boy shivered as his hood fell to his narrow shoulders.  
“Don't worry, child. It will all be over soon.”  
“Have you seen the news?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then you know about the Wraith.”  
“Yes. Disguised a promising young lady.”  
“What are they?” whispered the boy. A light mist of breath escaped his mouth.  
The Priest brought him closer and concealed him inside his warm coat. The boy closed his eyes as he for once felt safe from the outside world.  
“Let us not speak of the inevitability. Instead, lets speak of hope.”  
The boy looked up at the old man. “Take me.”  
“To where?” Asked the Priest.  
“To... ... Haven.”  
The old man held the boy out in both arms, and stared into his deep eyes. His warm touch suddenly converted from warm and welcoming to cold and stern. His almost lifeless gray eyes bit into the boys, like fangs, and stirred fear back into the young man's heart.  
“How do you know of such place?” Snapped the Gray man.  
“Word on the Street... I figure if anyone knew, it would be you. Take me to Haven, please!”  
The old man released his grip on the boy and turned to face the busy city below. Just a chaos of lights and drifting snow.  
“Haven... was suppose to be a secret. ... Long ago, when the first signs of the Demons appeared, government stumbled across it, and opened it to the very rich, and very valuable. They considered the death of man as another 'Noah's Arch' so to speak. To drown out the corrupted ones in society. And only the pure... and wealthy survived. Now as the world knows about it... no one will survive.”  
“What are you saying?”  
The Priest came closer to the boy as he turned away from the stone balcony. The boy took a step back in fear. He had never thought that one day he would be afraid of a Priest.  
“Do you know where the Haven is?” Growled the old man. The boy didn't reply. Yet began slowly backing up slowly. His deep, bluish green eyes now wide with fear. A fear graver than anything his young heart had seen.  
“Your not the Father.” A stalwart cry, declaring forgery with fear.  
The Priest's eyes transformed like two cloudy orbs from an inert grayness to a bestial, animal-like yellow. Enclosed around a black, ominous slit. With gritted teeth, he took a step closer.  
“Your one of them!” yelled the child.  
“Tell me where to find the Haven!” The beast snarled savagely.  
As the boy stepped back, his foot caught a blemish in the stone floor, and fell rearward onto his back. His heart pounding in his chest, he smelled his own demise as he crawled frantically, scurrying backward.  
“I can't.” Whispered the boy.  
“Then you die.”  
The beast reached out his claw-like hand and gripped the boy by the head. The balcony, cold as ice yet stable as the tower floor. The boy struggled for his life, but was useless to overpower this creature as it stepped up onto the balcony rail with the youth's life grasped tightly in his arms.  
As the moonlight spread across the balcony like tears across a grievous eyelid, the boy felt his life drift from his lungs with his last desperate breaths.  
As the creature stood on the edge of death, he  
Like razors tearing through flesh, two blood-soaked limbs protruded from the creature's back, and ripped through his trench-coat like tissue paper. Unfolding and spreading to reveal an intricate pair of webbed wings. Almost like a bat’s wings. Truly, a demon from hell.  
Suddenly, the creature froze. Listened. He sensed another presence. Hesitated to leap off the clocktower, and soar into the darkness. Instead, he turned and glared into the shadows of the open doorway behind him. Still clutching his victim.  
“Coward! Show yourself!” snapped the beast.  
Then came a voice from the shadows. A calm, cocky, threatening voice. Deep and as clear as the ocean, and as intelligent and ominous as the lord's.  
“Release the boy. But... why do I ask? I know you obviously will not. I guess I am merely offering you a warning before I kill you.”  
“It can't be...” Whispered the creature.  
“What's that?” Said the voice behind the shadows. “I think I smell your fear.”  
“Fuck you!” Screeched the beast. “Show yourself.”  
With that, the being in the shadows stepped foreword.  
It was a man. But at first glance, you would never tell it was anything close. First, the diagonal resting shadows revealed the man's boots as he stepped foreword. Black as the night, shinning with the moonlight. He wore tight leather pants, black as well, that stretched tightly across his muscular legs. Two belts hung loosely from his thin waist, complete with attached gun holsters. A silver chain mesh shirt fit snugly across his chest and hard stomach, and down his arms to his strong wrists. His long, black leather trench coat flailed in the cool night wind like a cape, and when at rest, nearly reached the floor. His hands were strong, firm, and decorated with heavy silver rings. Some rings covered entire fingers including joints, and were pointed at the fingertips. Heavy metal chains and jewelry hung from his neck and wrists. His long black hair was shaggy, and his sharp, handsome features put his personality together like a jigsaw puzzle. Yet his eyes were covered. Instead, a pair of black goggles, with perfectly circular, flat red lenses covered his eyes and identity from the world. Reflecting the light of the moon like the eye of a crouching predator and transforming it into a deep, bold, yet barely transparent blood red.  
“Disguised as a Priest...”  
“It can't be.” Whispered the creature. Leaning off the ledge like another gargoyle. His head was now extended, like a serpent, and razor sharp teeth pointed out of his giant, hinge-like jaw. His transformation complete.  
The man in black took a step foreword, but before the snow under his foot could crunch, the creature had leapt over the ledge. A shrill cry escaped the lad and pierced the night sky. Descending like a swooping bird of prey, the creature plunged towards the distant ground. His long, sharp claws digging deep into the boy’s sides, trickling blood over his pale skin.  
Instantly, the Stranger began to run, striding valiantly towards the ledge as he reached into the back of his belt and unsheathed simultaneously two small, silver combat knifes. Then dove headlong over the rail with the intent to kill. Both bodies fell in omnibus peril. One clutching his prey, the other, diving faster, forming his body with arms to his sides, to gain on the creature. Both falling faster than the snow, which appeared to return to the sky.  
Suddenly, as they fell, the creature's wings altered, and spread out as the creature began to glide on the cold winter breeze. Suddenly, the Stranger neared close enough to the creature to lunge. The boy clamped on for his dear life with everything he had, including his torn fingernails, into the reddish skin of the creature.  
With a mighty downthrust, the Stranger grabbed the back of the creature's torn jacket, and jammed the silver blade into the back of it's neck. The creature threw back it's ugly head and screamed a shrill shriek that stretched across the stars. Instantaneously, the creature's flesh began to burn, and it's flesh severed from it's body, no longer as flesh, but as dozens of black hideous bats, that took to the skies. Now, the second silver blade pierced the demon, low and to the side, as that area also began to deteriorate into small flying beasts. Soon, the creature Diminished to nothingness, and the boy began to free fall, as he reached up to the savior.  
The Stranger snatched him up, held him close in his strong arms, and prepared his legs for a sudden landing.  
The ground was near. Nearer. Here. The Black polished boots impacted the ground with tremendous force, and dust flew up from the shattering concrete. Still. The Stranger knelt. Holding the boy in his arms. Unharmed by the fall. Supernatural. Unhumanlike. These thoughts coursed through the boy's head along with a million other things, as he stared into those deep, mystical red goggles.  
“Who...” Squeaked off the boy. Tired. Weak. Frightened.  
“They call me Rain. I protect the world known as Haven...”  
“Haven~”  
“What's your name?”  
“Jake...” He whispered weakly.  
“Well, Jake... I have never seen another human escape a Wraith before. Feel special.”  
“The Demons...” the boy whispered.  
“Yes. The Demons... They are very real. They seem as real as you or me, but inside... they’re different.”  
The boy tossed his head back in surrender, as Rain held him in his arms, kneeling on the solid ground. A million questions raced through the boy's head. How did they ever survive such a fall? Who is this man? Am I alive? Or am I just dreaming.  
“Don't worry. All this will soon become clear to you.”  
“How?”  
“Because...” Said Rain, as he reached one hand over Jake's eyes and brushed it ever so softly down his delicate face. “Because it never really happened.” 

Rain opened his hand, and ran it ever so gently across the face of the boy. With a sudden inhale of the frosty air, Jake's head fell back and his mind returned to reality. He felt a sensation of his heart lifting in his chest, and the feeling of awakening.  
As he stood up with the boy in his arms, and began to walk. The two of them, were no longer on the snow-covered cement floor below, but on that stone balcony high above the sleepy city. Rain stood up with Jake in his arms, and walked back into the shadow, of a desolate doorway, high up in a snowy, stone clocktower.  
They never really fell. They never really landed. Yet this dreamy world that surrounds the boy, was reality. One that Jake never thought possible. Until this day, where reality knows no bounds. 

***

Chapter 2 (Illusion) 

A calm, murky puddle of water collected snowflakes on the cirb. Red and blue pulsing lights stirred in it, as the sound of officers talking and CB chatter made this night a bothering commotion.  
The yellow crime-scene tape was unraveled and wrapped around the trees at the entrance of an old, dark apartment building. Meant to block off people from coming too close to the crime-scene. But instead it did a better job of attracting the public to swarm around it for a better look of what's going on.  
Officer Chief Bingham stepped out of his cruiser and finished off the last few drops of his coffee before sluggishly trudging towards the commotion. He was a fat man, almost unfit to be the chief of police, but smart and professional. His wavy orange hair was matted on his head, for he had been standing out in the drizzling snow for the past few days.  
“What the hell's going on here?” Bingham tiredly asked a younger, slimmer officer. The old Cheif’s harsh, raspy voice was what he was known for.  
“Turns out an old bag lady found a corpse in her neighbor's apartment. A twenty four year old woman lives here, and it's a good guess that the corpse is her.” Said the younger cop, Ed. “They said it looks like one hell of a mess. A shooting, no doubt. But there's not much left of the victim.”  
“What do you mean? Not much left?” asked Bingham.  
“I mean, Chief, the body was totally disfigured. All we know is that it's female, and... that's about it. Turns out, that she was shot many times, with 9mm machine gun. We're not talking gang violence here. Whoever did this is a big-time mother fucker.”  
“Is the body still up there?” asked the Chief.  
“Their bringing it down as we speak.”  
“Good job, Eddie.”  
Two medical workers brought down a stretcher, with a red dripping mass piled in the center. The crowd screamed and some turned away, and the snow on the steps of the entrance was tainted in little red spots of carnage. Chief Bingham cringed, but did not look away, as the stretcher carefully made it's way to the back of the ambulance with stillborn lights.  
“You said it was because of a shooting.”  
“It was. There was about sixty or more 9mm shells. But we have absolutely no idea why it would leave such little remains of the body.” Eddie walked off, to clear his mind, and try to hold down his dinner.  
Bingham waved at the medical team to hold up a second, as he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, and covered his mouth and nose with it. It carried the pungent scent of old sweat, but it would be far better than the smell wafting off the stretcher.  
The medical workers looked at him eerily then stepped aside, to let the fat man do his work.  
The white sheet lifted off the red mass like a scab off a fresh wound, and clung to it with strings of slimy red goo.  
Suddenly, a hand touched the chief's shoulder and his heart jumped as he spun around.  
“Jesus Christ, Sal. Scare the fuck outta me.”  
“Third this week.” Said the man. Tall and strong, he towered over the chief, like many do. His sharp, manly features distinct, a somewhat humble look that sat inanimate on his face. He pulled his tight black toque over his ears, hiding his short brunette hair. A trio of scars on the back of his neck.  
“What?” Rasped Bingham.  
“I've been following a string of these occurrences lately. One on Monday, one on Wednesday, and now tonight.”  
“Did you get anything off the crime lab?” asked the Chief.  
“Nope. They Haven't even identified the victims. Basically all they know, is that their human, and that's it. How long were you and Eddie out here?”  
“I just got here.” He said as he tossed the sheet back over the body. And it splatted on the mass like a wet towel on bare marble floor. “I left a message on your phone. Where were you?”  
“I went for a walk... when I got your call, I came straight here”  
Sal reached into his black jacket and pulled out his pack of smokes and a Zippo.  
“Those things would kill ya someday.” Said Bingham. Sounding like sandpaper on wood.  
“I don't think it'll be these that kill me, Chief.”  
The man's name was Keith Salvolech, but the people that worked in his precinct called him 'Sal', or 'Salvo' as a nickname. He knew the Chief well, and have spent many years by his side. Basically watching his old friend age and get fatter and fatter as the years go by.  
“All I know is that whoever did this to this young lady is one sick bastard.” Said Bingham.  
Sal snapped his zippo shut. And blew a cloud of smoke into the frosty air.  
“You goin home now?”  
Sal exhaled an apathetical sigh and peered into the warm orange glow alight at the end of his cigarette. “Yah. There’s nothing really more that we can do.”

 

***

The snow began to fall heavily and blanket the melancholy city. Rain lifted the collar of his long black jacket up to keep the wind off the back of his neck. It was cold. Very cold. The kind of cold you would find in late October, as the sun began to rise and cast orange tint across the glimmering, snowy ground covered with red leaves. The two of them walked down the dark alleyway and out into the bright orange open portion of the outdoors. Rain helped the boy along, with his arm around his shoulder, the Stranger aiding the boy's walk. With one hand, Jake gripped his bleeding side where the demon had pierced his skin. Exhausted and weakened, the kid leaned on Rain heavily, as the two walked in silence. They soon stopped, and looked up at a wooden shack-like house. Boards broken from it's structure and lay where they have fallen. The home of young Jake. He has been living here since the Demons first arrived. He thought, that it would be safer in the city. Turns out, it’s like living in a hive.  
Rain helped the boy stand on his own, and finding no use of it, helped the boy to rest on the uncomfortable sidewalk. Jake sat there with a unemotional gaze on his face, as he looked up at the man with those mysterious red lensed goggles. Rain turned to leave the boy, but paused and stood with his back turned to him. Jake sat there, never moving, never speaking, just sitting, like a lost puppy hesitant to react. Rain lowered his head, as he was too weak to look the boy in the face. However, Rain wasn't one to be weakened by pity, nor be taken aback by sorrow. Many deaths sat upon his shoulders that have scarred and tortured his spirit. Yet he still did not look at the boy nor continue walking.  
As Rain looked out into the red sunset, he thought about how longer this soul would last before the Demons would find him again. Would they wait for nightfall, or would they make this morning and these snow-banks a crimson carnage. Still, die here or die there, the choice result was inevitable... No. He must not turn around. Helping him any further, would just prolong his fate... Although, there is no hope for tomorrow, if there is no desire for today. Still, like a statue he stood for a minute. Rain turned and looked down at the boy. His hand offering assistance.  
“Come with me. I'll take you to Haven.” 

***

“Now, onto local news, Police chief Bingham was on the scene today where a startling and gory discovery was made...”  
Keith Salvolech could hear the television set clearly from the bathroom. After a night of no sleep, he stood drowsy in the shower. The hot water turning his back red, as he leaned on the tile wall and stared at the ceiling. His eyes only half open. His face badly needing a shave, his stomach badly needing food, his hair badly needing a cut. He saw nothing, and felt little, but his hearing subconsciously absorbed the sound of the TV. “The mutilated body was carried out on a stretcher, as onlookers crowded the scene. It is not known just what happened in the early hours of the night, but officers are treating it as a murder, at the current moment.” The hot steam engulfed the mirror, and began to hang loosely in the air. “It appears like a similar chain of events prior to this incident has unfolded, but weather or not the police are willing to admit it yet is still yet to be seen.” Languidly, Salvo stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his body. As he raked his fingers through his short brunette hair, he walked over to the sink and searched for his razor. He looked up at the steamy mirror and wiped a streak of vapor off of it with his hand and looked at himself. But he didn't see himself. On the outside, he looked like an honest, humble man, but only he knew otherwise. The news could never tell him who he was. And the news will never know it was him all along. Lurking around at night, murdering, hunting those who were... killers. Just like him. Vile. Evil. They served a lower purpose. They served their master. But was stopping them the right thing to do? Was the means of murdering the innocent the right thing to do? Inside he was torn. So here he starred at himself in the steamy mirror, and instead of seeing himself, he saw the thousands of faces he has murdered. The scars on the back-left of his neck, a permanent reminder of what and who he is. He hated himself. He hated what he has become. His reflection staring back. Not speaking. Just staring back, telling him that he's crazy. Your crazy, Keith. Your crazy.  
“I'm not crazy.” He seethed to himself. “I'm not crazy!” still his reflection refused to look away from him. Your done, Keith. Your going to hell! “I'm not crazy!” He shouted at his reflection as the mirror smashed under the power of his fist, and shattered into a dozen jagged pieces. Each piece reflecting himself in disproportionate and dreadful ways. He backed away from the mirror until his back was pressed up against the wall. Slowly, he sank to the floor and covered his forehead with his hands in anguish. 

***

It wasn't long until young Jake could walk on is own. He was feeling better, mostly just shaken up, and he was eager to ask the many questions that floated around in his head. Rain said little, other than to keep close and specifically never to reveal where they were going to anyone. The daylight was soon to draw fourth from the morning daze, but the shadows still casted long and dark. Soon, after following the man in the red lensed goggles for some time, Jake realized where he was headed. To the subway. As they moved down the steps side by side, Jake could see the tracks from where he walked, and could hear nothing but utter silence. Funny, seeing how a subway would expect to have people. It was now Rain began to speak.  
“They shut down the subways to prevent travel to other cities. Not that anyone would come down here anymore anyway. All the homeless people dwelling around this place didn't last long.” He paused to look at Jake in the eye. “Easy Prey for the Demons.” Jake could see that this 'Rain' character was quite intelligent. But there was an air to this man he wasn't quite sure about. “You see... My people have been collecting here since this thing started, and well, lets just say our prayers have been answered.” The walked right up to the still and quiet tracks and Jake watched hesitantly as Rain jumped down onto the tracks, and began walking into the deep, dark tunnel. Jake said nothing and just followed. Rain continued.  
“Haven, my boy, is very real.”  
“Are we going to Haven?” asked Jake.  
“No, a small step down. You see, we like to call this place The Garden...”  
“Of Eden?” asked Jake with some sarcastic disbelief in his tone.  
“That's right. You see... The Garden is an unknown... passageway created by my people for many, many years. You can access these tunnels in the basements of churches and temples. And... well, sometimes in subways.”  
“And the people on the surface don't know about them?”  
“Some don't. Some do.” Explained Rain. “The ones that do, keep contracts with us, and give us the rights to land, and these magnificent tunnels.”  
“Are they like caves? Is that what Haven s like?”  
“No. You’ll see.”  
The two ventured further, and walked in the darkness.  
“So, you guys are into organized crime, right? Like the Mafia?”  
“Sort of.”  
“You guys aren’t drug lords, are you?”  
“Not exactly...” Said Rain. 

Soon, it was too dark to see, and Rain withdrew a flashlight from his pocket and shone it on a small steel grate. Slowly, careful not to make too much noise, he removed it, and climbed inside the 1. 5 X 3 foot slot.  
“This is the way to the ‘Garden?” asked Jake.  
“Yes.” Said Rain plainly.  
With a strong hand, the Stranger helped the boy into the hole, and replaced the grate securely. As he did this, Jake took a look around. “Wow.” He said. Inside was dark, fairly dark, but once his eyes adjusted, the room was very clear. Jake looked up at the walls of the interior and his jaw almost dropped. The walls were that of brick. Moist, yet somewhat smooth bricks that shimmered with a strong blue tint that soothed Jake's sore reddened eyes. But his attention wasn't long to linger on the walls, but on the centerpiece of the small brick enclosing. A fountain. A large round brick pool with the center molded stone protruding towards the ceiling. Lightly, ever so lightly it rained water from it's peak. It's ominous pool reflected the bright daylight of a round hole in the ceiling across the smooth brick walls, and floor. At night, Jake imagined it would be ever so beautiful with the tint of the bright moon. Rain awakened the boy from his trance with a firm hand on his shoulder, as he stepped towards the fountain.  
“They call this the fountain of life. It was our only salvation at one time.” He grinned and looked at Jake. “... I know... the names are really throwing ya off right?” Rain chuckled. He stepped up on the stone brim and stepped into about a foot and a half of water. “Well, I don't blame ya for thinking so.” He pointed with his finger at the bottom of the pool as he waded towards the middle. “Down there, it's an entirely new world. You'll have to brace yourself. It takes some getting use-to.”  
“Whoa. Wait. You mean we have to swim to the...”  
“No. It's not like that.” Said Rain. Not caring to explain just yet. “Jake, have you ever been baptized?”  
“Yes I have.”  
“Do you remember what it was like?”  
“No. I was just a baby.”  
“Well, let me show you.” Rain talked in a calm and soothing voice.  
Jake looked around, very confused. Why am I here? Where is this? What the hell is up with this fountain? Who is this guy?  
“Wait...” Said Jake, as Rain tilted his head to the side, quizzically. “Wait...” he said again as he backed up away from the pool surrounding the fountain. “What's going on? Why are we... How... How did you survive falling from the clocktower?”  
“In due time, my boy. Your questions will be answered. But for now, you must trust me.”  
“But what if I don't? This all... this all doesn’t make sense!”  
Suddenly, the grate which they climbed into, made a clank. Jake spun around in alarm. There, at the grate, a black nose pressed itself against the steel, and sharp, jagged teeth bared from the muzzle of a beast. A low pitched growl echoed across the chamber, as a puff of cold breath escaped the monster's mouth as it growled. As Jake stared in terror, he instantly noticed the eyes of the beast. Those red, insane eyes. Not canine. Not demon. But something in between. Wild. Almost like Satan’s personal guard dog. Jake's eyes filled with fear as he slowly stepped backwards towards the water's edge.  
“Quickly.” Said Rain. He could hear the claws of the beast tear at the steel grate, the best breathing heavily and snarling furiously as he reached out to the boy. “Trust me.”  
“But what the fuck??” the boy yelled.  
“Trust me.”  
With strong arms, he grabbed the boy and leaned him back, submerging his entire body in the water as he knelt. Hanging his head over the boy's body. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the beast slowly fade. The growling calmed, the steel grate came to rest, and the stillness began to return. Slowly. Slowly it died. He looked down and watched Jake drift away on a dream as he listened to the sound fade. Fade into nothingness. It was calm now. They were safe. 

 

***

Chapter 3 (Creature in Darkness) 

Running. Breathing hard, not turning back. The man's breath poured out of him as he ran down the alleyway.  
Rain fortunate enough not to be frozen into snow fell through the gutters and dripped in the corners of a dark alley. A claustrophobic nightmare. The man was small. Almost ugly, with a bad, thin mustache and somewhat buck teeth. His cloths torn and old. His gray knitted toque snugly on his little round head. But his size did him one good. It gave him that extra boost of speed. It was clear that he was afraid. Terrified, almost. Looking behind him for the shadows that he knew were following him. He ran as fast as he could. 

Salvo stepped through the damp, back door entrance of his apartment and out into the cold wet passageway. His hair still damp, and his long black trench-coat covering his identity. Darkness filled the night, but the wet alleyway was lighten by a distant light. Everything was quiet. Just how he liked it. Abruptly, just as he turned, he was stricken out of absolutely nowhere. Salvo took a second to collect his thoughts, as he realized the little ugly man with the gray toque ran into him while he was looking over his shoulder.  
“Watch where your goin', buddy.”  
The little ugly man looked up at him with his jaw dropped, and all his unsightly teeth exposed. “Your the one!” He said.  
“What are you talking about?”  
“Your the Slayer! Salvo!”  
Salvo paused for a second, and brushed himself off, as he studied the little ugly man. “How do you know my nickname?” The little ugly man grabbed Sal's jaw and moved it to the side, exposing his neck. The three scars plainly stated his true identity. Sal shoved his hand away.  
“The world knows about you, my friend.” Said the little guy as he pulled his hood over his toque. Looking in the direction he was running from. “There here. There angry.” He puffed. “It's only a matter of time now. They want to know where Haven is. They wont stop until they find it.”  
“Who wont stop? Haven? That place is only a legend.”  
The ugly man held out a finger, and waved it in Salvo's face. “Oh, no. They know. The Demons know!”  
A sound of a clumsy move came from around the corner, in which the little man was running from. “See! See! What did I tell you? Their here. Their going to kill us all, and you are the only one who can stop them. Haven is real, my friend. Because I know.” Salvo put a hand on the little man to push him back, out of his face, but the little man snapped. With a fairly strong shove, the little man pinned him on the brick wall, and spoke into his face again. “I know because I've been there. I've seen their pearly fucking gates, and I have felt the safety of it's domain!” The little man looked down the alleyway again, nervously. “Now their going to kill me if I don't tell them. Please, Salvo. You must help me...”  
The little man turned to look down the passageway again, and this time froze in fear.  
Salvo looked down the alley and laid his eyes upon a man. The light that illuminated the alley was just enough to light the back brick wall and left the figure a mere black outline. He was a tall man, or at least it looked like a man. He was wearing a tall jacket, and old short brimmed hat. Salvo squinted to see him clearly, but he knew what he was. A serpent. A creature disguised as a man.  
“No.” Said the ugly man as he turned to run again. But he didn't get far at all.  
With one swift move of the creature's hand, the little ugly man was propelled backwards, and flew through the air like a kite towards the creature. Salvo's eyes opened wide in fear, as the little man screamed as if in pain and uttermost fear. The man's body stopped in mid air, and levitated in front of the creature, like as if a hundred invisible hands suspended him there before the demon. With another swift move of his hands, the little man's body separated into uneven quarters and blood sprayed in all directions. A disturbing cry escaped the man as his limbs separated from his body and landed in all corners. Salvo cringed as he stepped out into the middle of the alley and retreated two silver, twin machine guns from inside his cloak. Training them on the creature, his mind argued with reality, as he watched it slowly evolve, morphing into his natural state. As he began to stride towards the man known as Salvo, he reached up and tossed off his hat and revealed his several-inch claws on each hand and dark reddish wrinkled skin. As it neared, the light began to reflect off his extremely long, razor sharp teeth, all fitted inside a small, powerful jaw and narrow head. It's sunken red eyes, glowed like a jackolantern and drilled inside of Salvo's mind. He trained the guns on it, too intrepid to look away. Like a raptor, it charged, and as it became closer, it dropped it's jaw and let out a shrill cry, that echoed throughout the city and coursed through Salvo's soul. Closer. Closer. Salvo opened fire, and hot red liquid sprayed everywhere as the mystical creature from hell recoiled a tad on his charge, smashing heavily into Sal's lap. The two of them fell heavily to the ground, the human the underdog. As he fell, the left machine gun toppled clear out of grasp. Kicking like a chicken with it's head cut off, the creature struggled to regain it's balance, and violently lunged it's incredibly long teeth at Sal's throat. Desperately, Sal jammed his left thumb into the creature's right eye, as it screamed again, and shook it's head like a shark attacking prey. The upper hand seized, Salvo raised the machine-gun to the creature's head and unleashed a long intense burst of fire into it's slimy temple. It immediately stopped flailing and lied dead on Sal's chest. Mortified, he scurried away from the still beast, on his hands and rear, and lied still on the cold, wet, bloody ground. He’s never seen anything like that before. Vampires are one thing, but that was totally different.  
Breathing hard, he looked up at the dark sky that loomed above and wiped the sprayed blood off his face. “Haven.” He whispered to himself, as he starred at the dark night sky. “Haven.” 

***

Darkness. Jake opened his eyes, but the darkness was identical to the kind if his eyes were closed. Tired. His entire body felt as though it weighed thrice of what it actually did, and being a thin young man, that wasn't too much. Soon realizing he was lying down, he sat up and turned his head about to better observe the darkness. He felt a large, sticky bandage on his ribs, and the memories of the clocktower flooded over him. For a second, he wondered if he was dead. He lied back down on the soft bed he inhabited, and remembered the reason he awakened in the first place. It was a nightmare. A memory of his past really.  
He remembered his family struggling in fear to escape for their lives. He remembered that one stormy night, that changed his life forever. And how those monsters, those creatures from hell appeared out of the darkness outside, and came into his home. Bloodthirsty. Relentless. It all ran by his head as he stared into the looming oblivion surrounding him. His memory never to leave him. 

About a couple weeks ago, when the first snowflake graced the earth, and the October breeze was yet to be felt, they came. Swiftly and stealthily like black clouds overhead at night. In fact, in some parts of the earth, the ones that are capable of flight came in such vast numbers, that they appeared as black clouds and drowned the stars. Jake remembered these clouds and the helplessness that it brought. The ones on foot came from the darkness. Out of thin air. Jake remembered how one second in the dark, hiding from death, meant two more blinks before inhaling the breath of another foul creature.  
Jake sat in his room, in bed, much like this. Afraid. Back then, he had no idea what afraid was. He could hear his parents downstairs talking. From where their cautious voices came from, Jake could tell just where they were down below. In the kitchen. He didn't know why, but he began to wonder why his father was in the kitchen, for he was never in there. Soon, he heard the window rattling loose glass, and he soon realized that they must be looking out the window in the kitchen that overlooked the forest behind the house. A forest not far from the lights of the city, but one that wasn't without it’s spook in the nighttime hours. Heavy footsteps led Jake’s attention to the closet by the door, which encased his father’s rifle. Now, as he turned in his bed for a better listen, he became worried. “Dad?” He cried out to the floor below, knowing that his father never heard him anyway. “Dad?” He crawled out of bed outfitted only in his boxers, and walked to his bedroom door. He opened it a crack and peered out into the hallway. Silence loomed in the air and drilled into Jake’s ears worse than any earsplitting clap could ever achieve. It scared him more than any vile creature from the darkness could ever muster. Semi-darkness was killing is sanity. One step in the dark. A gunshot. The sound broke the silence like a clap of thunder and petrified Jake in his mid step. He was afraid to walk, but was forced to run. He swiftly made it to the stairs and flew down them immediately, slamming into his father at the bottom, who had just burst in the door, with rifle in hand.  
“Quick, boy! Get away from the door!” Jake stepped back, and watched in horror as his father slammed the door behind him and locked it tight.  
“What’s going on?! What’s out there?!” Jake yelled as his father grabbed his arm and guided him away from the door. The fear in his father’s eyes was enough to confirm his fears. “What’s out...”  
Jake’s question was cut off, as a spine-tingling howl of unearthly pitch that pierced the night sky and averted the young man’s attention to the window and the darkness outside. As he gazed out the window in horror, a strong hand snapped him back into reality.  
“Listen to me, Jake.” Said his father. Looking deeply into his ocean-colored eyes, inherited from this very man. “Take your mother, and lock yourselves in the bathroom...”  
“But Dad, I...”  
“Don't argue with me Jake. Just do it.” Jake’s next question was that of ‘what are you going to do?’ but as his father re-loaded the double-barreled shotgun, his question was answered. “Dad, no. What’s out there? A bear? A coyote?”  
“I don't know, son.”  
Jake could hear faint whimpers of his mother in the kitchen, as she huddled herself in a corner and stared out the window. The young man looked up at his father in horror, as he felt the creature’s presence for the first time. Again, he froze in fear as he heard whatever was out there, sniffing at the bottom of the door. A low, baneful growl rolled through the crack, and a dead silence returned to torture Jake’s mind once again. A whisper in the silence. “Jake. Do as I told you...” The growl returned this time angered. “Go... Now!”  
A powerful blow pounded into the door, nearly knocking it from it’s hinges. Jake’s father readied the shotgun. Jake immediately took off to the kitchen and grabbed his mother by the hand. She was petrified. Shaking. Many strands of her long blond hair was obscuring her face, and her tears flowed freely.  
“Jake...” She cried.  
“Come-on.”  
Jake lead her to down the dark hallway, and into the bathroom, which was the center of the house. But security was far from Jake’s mind. He looked over his shoulder and wonder ran across his mind along with the fear of every shadow in the house. He did not hear a shot nor a scream yet, and the fear was too much for him to bear. “Jake...” cried his mother, begging him to hide in the dark where it was safe. But Jake turned to look over his shoulder again. His father was out there. Scared and now alone. Defending his house from whatever creature it was outside. “Jake...”  
“No. I gotta help Dad!” He cried.  
“No. You have to stay! It’s not safe!”  
“I have to!”  
“No! Jake!”  
“I have to!” he yelled as he turned to run back to the front door. His mother’s frantic screams turned from begging to utter shrieks of Jake’s name as he ran back for his father. Still no shot. Still no scream.  
As Jake arrived at the door, his vision began to blur, and his mind overwhelmed him with disbelief as he stared at the pool of blood just inside the doorway. The old wooden door swung limply off one hinge in the silent, calm darkness and tapped softly against the rifle laying on the ground. “No~” he whispered to himself, as his stomach filled with nausea. How could this happen? But overall all emotions crammed in the young man’s head, fear was the dominant one. Silence floated into the house on a light night breeze. The thump of Jake’s pounding heart echoed in his ears as he knelt down ever so carefully, slowly, to reach the rifle. The silent breeze froze the sweat that dewed on his body, and caused the hanging porch-light to sway and direct the light in random, unearthly ways. It moved across the dark doorway like a serpent’s bobbing head. Jake touches the cold steel.  
A growl. As the boy grips the gun, he stands and raises it to his shoulder, standing still. Letting the swaying light fixture search the corners and chase the shadows. The ghostly snarl erupts again from somewhere, as Jake turrets his body to find that which is now his prey. Silence fills the house again.  
Afraid to move, afraid to breathe hard, Jake releases a helpless whisper. “Mom?” Ever so quietly, it is impossible for anyone but himself to hear, he calls out again. “Mom?” The kind of whisper a child emits laying in bed, calling for help, but too afraid to speak.  
Slowly, he begins his way back to the bathroom. Is she still alright? The desolate hallway boards squeaked under his weight as he stepped. Holding the butt of the rifle close to his shoulder. His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he stepped. Finally, he reached the door. He tried the knob. It was unlocked. And as the door turned, the dull blue moonlight from distant windows offered little help, as it shone somberly upon the floor. Empty. Jake was now alone. His breathing turned from silent to near hyperventilating as he lowered the gun barrel and stared at the bare room. The beat was faster than ever now. The rifle fell to the ground from his grip, as he hung his head with hot tears. With an empty soul, he looked up at the ceiling. His eyes seeing nothing but a teary blur as he whispered to God. “Why?” And there he stood.  
Once again, the unearthly howl ripped through the house. Jake closed his eyes and stepped into the dark room and slammed the door behind him. He immediately collapsed onto the floor, his back against the wall, and hyperventilated in the darkness as the fear ate the rest of his insides. 

Back in the cold reality of the present, Jake wiped his eyes and tried to bring his breathing down. Still, he did not know where he was, but he was sure of one thing. He was now more afraid of the dark than ever before.  
His mind lingered often on what had happened that night his parents disappeared. Suicide was a common thought and possibility, but the young man had never brought himself to actually attempting. But questions aroused about the here and now were first on his wondering mind. Who is this Rain guy? How did he survive that fall from the clocktower? And now the latest ones, How did I get here, and where exactly is here? 

Feint footsteps began a distance back, and became louder. Closer. Soon, light poured into the room, like a wave and Jake got the first glimpse of the room he was in. His eyes took a while to focus, and feasted on the figure who had opened the door. A young lady. 

As the light flooded the room, almost completely, the young lady looked upon the empty bed, then across the room and made eye contact with the boy huddled in the corner with the ocean-colored eyes. He was in his pants, but somehow lost his shirt during the night.  
She smiled as she walked over to Jake and kneeled beside him, clutching a blanket for him. Now that she was closer, Jake realized that she was absolutely beautiful. Her long brownish black hair, far-surpassed her shoulders, and she was moderately tall. Her pitch-black clothing matched her black makeup, heavily placed around the eyes. That only enhanced her beauty. Long strands of black bangs hung over her face. And the steel hoop-earrings completed her. Jake could tell how she was the reserved kind. One of those who would be asked-out many times, but reluctant to take offers.  
“Hi...” she said to Jake, but he just sat there and sweated his cold sweat and blinked his dry and red eyes. He reached up and rubbed them as she knelt beside him and reached out to comfort him. “Come on...” He shuttered and pulled away from her touch like a nervous kitten. She flinched, almost taken aback that someone would be afraid of her. She offered the blanket to him, gently.  
“I’m sorry.” He said. And that was about it.  
“Don't worry. I’ve seen much worse than you before.” She motioned him to come closer as she wrapped the blanket around him. It was dull brownish-gray and was itchy on his bare skin. “Some people come here for refuge, and still claim to see absolutely no reflection in the mirror.”  
“Are we in Haven?  
“No... not yet. We’re in the ‘Garden’. This s a temporary home... Our home...”  
“Our home?”  
“Yes. After they came from the darkness, the Goths in society were outcasted and treated as... witches. We were persecuted for the way we dressed the way we act and even for what we like. Soon, we were said to be followers of the devil.” Jake looked at her, as she spoke, and listened with raw interest. She soon paused and noticed that Jake was staring at her. “I’m sorry... I’m just babbling...”  
“No, no... please... tell me more.”  
She smiled. “For a few weeks now, we have been taking in lost souls like yourself. And taking them here. And well... adopting them into our society; so to speak. People with no-where to go; people who have been injured or separated from their families... We helped society, even though they were the ones to toss us out. We... hide here in the tunnels, like animals. Where the creatures will never find us. And where society will ever hurt us.”  
“Why? Why do you help people?”  
“... Because it is the only way we are to get through this.” She paused a second to enjoy his blue eyes, all filled with fear and wonder. Then she continued. “You see, the ‘Garden’ is our half-way house. A place where we can be safe from the outside world. This is where we stay when we’re not... out there.”  
Jake still just stared. He wanted to know more. “Come. Let me show you the others.” 

***

***

Chapter 4 (Truth)

A wooden podium stood alone on the concrete steps of city hall. Chief Bingham was soon to make his arrival, to publicly broadcast the explanation that has had everyone in a frenzy. Hundreds of people crowded the steps that overlooked central park. in the corners of the crowds, hippies dressed in multi-color scarf’s held up signs proclaiming “God save the world” and other good-will slogans. The commotion stirred, one step away from being outright violent, but two steps past being worried.  
At last, the series of black cars pulled up and the media was quick to tackle them. As the fat man stepped out, he straightened his unshapely suit and gave the hand to the camera lens. 

As the fat man took his place behind the podium, the media squirmed about and took their pictures. Police officers and security stood by and looked out across the sea of people. Bingham raised his hand for silence and began what he had to say.  
“As you already know... the Mayor and I have tried our best to keep the past month’s operations a secret. And we can no longer hide from the public.” More flash photography blared in the old chief’s eyes, as he held his bulbous head high with authority, looking over the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his colleague, Keith Salvolech, in the crowd. He continued what he came to say. “We have come to the conclusion that the past occurrences were not a chain of foul play. Nor the onslaught of a notorious murderer.” He paused and listened to the silence of the entire park hang off his every, raspy word. “But chain of attacks...” The crowd gasped and shrieked. “... of a darkness dwelling species.  
“Demons!” yelled a hippie, with long blond dreadlocks, over Sal’s shoulder.  
“I assure you, we must remain calm.” The gathering was in an uproar, and eventually calmed enough for the Chief to continue. “To tell you the truth, we are not sure what we have here, but my people are working around the clock to find out all that we can.”  
“Filthy pigs!” Yelled the blond hippie again. “We can’t trust the police!”  
“Why?” Asked Sal. The hippie yelled so the crowd could hear. The media paying full attention to him.  
“They are just as helpless as all of us! Let God sort ‘em out!”  
“We are not helpless!” Barked Bingham. “This is not total domination! This is not the end of the world! This is now, and we will get past this! I advise you all to keep calm, and to keep your doors locked at night. If you must defend yourself, do so, but until then, we must keep this under control.”  
A reporter piped in and called out to Bingham. “Sir, is it true you support the Mayor’s decision of outcasting all the non-conforming from our society?”  
Frustrated now, silence filled the group of people who stared up at the Chief of police.  
“We did not cast them out for what they look like...” The media gasped and stirred as they flashed pictures of the fat man’s red, sweaty face and waited to catch more juicy information. Bingham looked away. “...They were not persecuted for their beliefs, nor were they discriminated for who they are. They were outlawed--” By now, the media and the crowd was in an uproar. “--Because of their harm to society, like the dirty criminals they are!”  
Salvo misdirected his attention and began to walk away from the crowd as Bingham left the podium. Sal lit a smoke and blew a gray cloud into the frosty air. He wondered about this whole ordeal. How these hellish creatures are the ‘here and now’, and man was the past. Cleverly spotting the irony, how their escape from hell was embraced with the blistering cold and the frost of the iciest hearts in society. He watched as the trees continued to rain their kin in a colorful daze and die alone once again. 

***

The beautiful lady lead the wide-eyed boy down an intricately designed hallway. The walls were red and black, and lined with pillars. Pillars that looked like they supported the weight of the world from collapse. Jake, still wrapped in the blanket, followed like a puppy at her heels. “Be prepared to meet them. Their not ordinary people.”  
“What do you mean?”  
She turned to face him, as they reached a door on their left, and gently gazed at the young man, careful not to startle him. “We do things here. Things never before understood by the people out there. They will never accept our intentions, you see.”  
“Because you’re...” he said gesturing to the black makeup and her black fish-net sleeves.  
“Different? No. You’ll see. Come-on.”  
She opened the door, and it let out a creak that ran through the halls. Inside was a living-room themed room. It was complete with tall, old-fashioned windows, frosted by the cold night air, and a giant fire-place burning merrily. The heat from it heated the entire room, complete up to the very high ceiling. All the furniture looked old and hard, covered in a dull, almost dusty, red leather. And there was a mirror, over the fire place. It was tall, wide, and ominous. Clarity. One thing on Jake’s list to achieve.  
Jake counted three people in the room, besides himself and the girl he came in with. One of which, he had already recognized. The one with the long black trench-coat, with the blood-red goggles, starring out the frosty window.  
The long-haired girl walked over to him and leaned on his shoulder affectionately, as he continued to glare out the window.  
The other man, sitting cozily in a chair by the roaring fire, was a smaller man. He was small, short and stalky. Just out of reach of being handsome, but good looking. He had all the features of a real old-fashioned gentle-man type. He sat cross-legged in black dress-pants, a white, frilly dress shirt and even the exaggerated monocle on his right eye. His top-hat rested on a top corner of his chair. But the one thing that made Jake look at him twice, was his extremely blue hair. Not that of a summer sky’s glare, but more of an ice blue. Intense. Almost neon. At Jake’s entrance, the small blue-haired man raised his tea cup in cheers to Jake, smiling smugly.  
Suddenly, Jake felt a hand on his shoulder, and spun around startled. In front of him was a tall, gray man with skeletal features. He was thin, very tall, and had thin arms and legs. His old wrinkled face and incredibly gray eyes were gentle and friendly. He wore a gray tux that was thin like him, and a long black cape. He held out a cup of tea for the boy.  
“Welcome to my home, young lad. I see you have already had a sample of the tunnels that stretch under the feet of man.” He chuckled. “And into my living-room.” The thin, Gray man “Here... This will make you feel better. I bet you Haven’t eaten in days.” Flare handed him the cup of Tea.  
Jake took the cup and saucer and nodded his thank you.  
“My name’s Jake.”  
“Flare.” Said the tall gray man, as he shook the boy’s hand. “The blue-haired chum is Donalbain. If you ever get yourself into a bind, that’s your man. ... I see you already know the lovely Caprice. And this is...”  
“Rain.” Said Jake. As Flare gestured to the figure standing by the window.  
“That’s right.”  
The fire roared beautifully inside the giant stone fireplace and heated the room with it’s warm orange glow. Flare motioned to the furniture by the fire and invited Jake to join him and Donalbain. Jake curled up in a chair and wrapped the blanket around him, his bare, cold feet on the wood-tile floor. Flare smiled his gentle, warm, wrinkly smile and asked Jake; “Do you have any questions?”  
“Yah, Tons.” Said Jake, between sips of the tea. “I don't understand anything.”  
“What’s not to understand?” said Donalbain with a blunt and clairvoyant, almost arrogant tone.  
“The Demons...” Said Jake. Not really knowing what to say. “I thought he was human.”  
“Thought who was human?” Said Flare.  
“The Priest. Up in the clocktower. He attacked me. He...” before saying another word, he lifted the blanket and exposed the torn holes in his side, still bandaged securely.  
“It was real.” Whispered Jake. He stood up from his chair and pointed at Rain, who was glaring out the window. “You never told me the truth. ... Tell me how you were able to survive that fall. How did you kill that... thing. And how the hell did I get this?!” He yelled, motioning to his wounded ribs.  
Flare stood also, and tried to calm the boy. “Please, Jake. Your not ready for the truth.”  
“The hell with if I’m ready. I want the truth!” Still, the man with the red goggles would not turn away from the window. “Answer me!”  
Finally, Rain turned to Jake.  
“You want the truth?” he snapped. “The truth is, that nothing you have experienced is real!” Rain laid it down blunt and coldly. “The truth is, that you stumbled upon something you never were suppose to. I have done my best to hide it from you. I cannot just tell you what the truth is. You must find it for yourself. These Demons, these monsters that haunt us all in the night, are real. This... global panic is really happening and death is real. Something the cruel world must learn on it’s own!” He turned to the window again. “I cannot save them all... But I can help them escape.”  
“What do you mean?” whispered Jake.  
“He means...” said Donalbain. “The truth hurts.”  
Jake turned to look at the blue-haired man, as he spoke to him. His eyes smug, arrogant. The old man, Flare, just stood there and diverted his attention to the floor. Jake turned back to look at Rain, but he was already gone. Caprice just stood alone by the window. Her arms crossed, and innocent eyes coming to tears.  
“These are hard times for everyone.” Said Flare. “Ask me anything. And I will try to help you.” 

***

That night, the alleyways were dark and wet again. Like every night. The cold air drifted in for the evening. Dripping icicles hung like the fangs of serpents across the tops of the tall, dark buildings that surrounded the alleys. Once again, the moonlight was all to light the cracks of the city, and poured a milky haze between the buildings. Spreading it’s weary bluish hue.  
A tall woman, blond in all her beautiful glory, closed the front of her fur coat snugly, as she walked through the alleyway alone. Knee-high boots, black as the shadows and blood-red lipstick made her up like a doll. Her shadow cast out in front of her for many yards. An innocent wide-eyed expression also showed a tinge of fear, as she avoided the homeless men and drug dealers that hung around this part of town. Soon, she was alone, and began to quicken her pace through the claustrophobic’s nightmare.  
The clicking of her heels on the ground was the only sound.  
Suddenly, she heard a noise, and looked behind her as she walked. She stopped. Silence. No one else casted a shadow for as far as she could see, but someone else was still just within the shadows grasp. She felt someone there.  
“Hello?” she called to the darkness. “Is anyone there?” Of course, no reply. She felt so stereotypical. Of course no one answered. The darkness just watched and blinked as the moonlight graced her eyes with a glow that completed her, and gently rested on her fair cheeks.  
Another noise clanked behind her, and she spun around again. And this time she saw him.  
The tall man, covered by shadow, stood alone in the alleyway. The darkness crawled over him like a thousand insects. A single string of wavy smoke came fourth from his cigarette.  
“I’m warning you, mister. You don't know what your dealing with.” Said the blond lady.  
Dark looming clouds began to drift, and moved in front of the blue, watchful moon. With the moon’s last few seconds of shine, the silver machine guns glimmered out of the shadows. The clouds turned fourth their silver linings to the night, and graced the planet with darkness. Two bodies felt each other draw near. A growl rumbled across the alleyway, and a struggle of power toiled in the blackness. Very high-pitched whistles burst from the gun’s silencer, ripping the concrete around their feet. The fire from the nozzle danced like a serpent’s flailing tongue and lit the surroundings for mere milliseconds. Flashing glimpses of horrible things. Spraying blood. Fur. A three-pronged scar. A lipstick smile, filled with long white fangs. Soon, the short bursts stopped. Light footsteps walking away. The darkness lasted for many more minutes, before allowing the moon to return to watch wearily over the earth once again. The moonlight waltzing in the pool of blood, and glimmering off the blood that sat like dew on the fur coat that now lie in the alley. 

 

*** 

Back at the Garden, Jake pulled a sweater over his head and slipped into the sleeves. The fire was warm, but not warm enough. The sweater belonged to Donalbain, so it was a little big.  
“Tell me everything I need to know.” Said Jake.  
“The truth.” Said Flare with a sigh. “We have been hiding the truth from the world for years. The truth is, that we have prophesied this... cataclysm many years ago and have prepared for it.”  
“Of course, we were never really prepared.” Said Donalbain.  
Flare continued to explain. “You see my boy, those Demons out there are real. The wounds on your side are real. And this global crisis is real.” 

“The Demons...” said Jake. “What are they?”  
“There are many kinds of Demons. Banshees, Wraiths, Hounds...”  
“Hounds.” Said Jake and instantly remembered the god-awful howling that came for him and his family in the night.  
“Yes, there is all kinds. Mortal, immortal, many believed to be folklore, many believed to be non-existent.” Said Flare.  
“Death comes in many forms, lad.” Said Donalbain. Jake’s eyes wide in fear, as he listened to them. Don’s abrupt and harsh tone punctured Jake’s delicate nerves. “There’s the kind that can rip your limbs apart and scatter them across fields of crimson dirt, without so much as breathing hard. Without so much as touching you.”  
Flare gave Don a glance of disapproval for going into such gory detail, yet continued to explain as Don smiled a sinister grin. Enjoying the fear in Jake’s eyes. “Those that Donalbain speaks of are the Wraiths. The most deadly and feared kind of demon out there. They are able to do the... abomination he speaks of...”  
“How many kinds are there?” asked Jake.  
“We do not know. We only know but a few, and know little about them. That priest you visited... It was an incubus. Capable of flight.”  
“It appeared human.”  
“Yes. Most of the Demons can. That’s why you must be careful. We have learned that most of these Demons are allergic to silver, and thus, is one of our only defenses.”  
“You guys said vampires...”  
The room stood still. Flare nor Don cared to explain this one. The fire crackled it’s gleeful crackle and the air seemed to get thinner as Jake waited for a response.  
“Jake, let me be honest with you.” Started Flare. “The reason why we know all this, is because we have been around for a lot of years...”  
“I could understand that.” Said Jake.  
“Hundreds.” Said Flare. But he never really outright said what he wanted to, or had to say. 

Flare never outright said that he enjoys the taste of blood, or cannot be brought down by the years and years that have taken it’s toll on his old, wrinkled and scarred face. Some nights that seemed longer, sleepless in the best of times, Flare toiled century after century. Yearning to kill again. To hunt for survival in the dark city streets. This old veteran has seen history unfold, and has seen many victims die in his arms, their blood pouring through his old set of fangs. 

“Hundreds?” Asked the boy. “I don't understand.”  
Donalbain pointed to the giant mirror over the fireplace. As Jake glared into it, he saw his reflection. A scrawny teenager, all red-eyed and dirty. He saw Donalbain, sitting in another hard-leather chair. And no-one else. He looked at flare, and back at the mirror. His presence in the mirror was absent.  
“It reminds us who we are.” Said Flare.  
“Your a vampire.” Whispered the boy with ocean-blue eyes in horror.  
“Thanks for stating the obvious, kid.” Said Don.  
“I don't believe it.” He said and stood up to leave.  
“Look at the mirror!” yelled Flare.  
“No!”  
Flare tried a calmer tone. “I’m not lying to you, my young friend.” Jake shook his head and avoided looking in the mirror. Flare continued to spill his guts. “For hundreds of years we’ve anticipated this coming of the Demons. Our bibles prophesied the end of man!” The old vampire calmed himself again. “We’ve known it was to happen, and so we began to accept it. Our only choice was to find a means to survive. Thousands of years ago, he began to build. We began to dig.” Soon, Flare was whispering. “And we made Haven. A place where mankind and Vampires could co-exist. Not as wolves and sheep, but as brothers.” He stopped whispering. “Soon, mankind stumbled upon our creation, and claimed it as his own, still not knowing that we even exist. They still do not know. But they do know of the Demons. And they are afraid. Still, to this day, we stalk the streets, and feed. But we are only trying to survive.”  
“I don't believe you.” Whispered Jake.  
“So you see, Jake. We are simply... The better of two evils.”  
“I don't believe you!” snapped Jake. Heading for the door that lead out into the snow.  
“You don't have to believe me, Jake.” Flare called back to the boy as he walked for the door. “Out there, if you survive, you will see.”  
Caprice stopped Jake at the door, and stood in front of it. Blocking his way.  
“Please, Jake. We’re only trying to help you.”  
“I don't need your help.”  
“You would be dead if it wasn't for Rain.”  
“And dead is where I should be!”  
“And what about what waits for you at Haven?”  
Jake shut up and looked away from her deep, brown eyes.  
“What is it?” she asked. “There’s another reason why you want to go there, don't you?”  
“Who doesn’t want to survive?”  
“You said, dead is where you should be.”  
“It’s where I should be. But it’s not where I’m going.”  
He pushed by her and out the door without shoes, or socks. Without a jacket, or even to a clue to where he was going. All he knew, is that he had to find a way to Haven. It was his obsession. His only desire. It was now, as he walked out into the snowy world and down those cold, concrete steps, that he realized that he was just like those Demons. He was relentless, and hell-bent on finding Haven. But then, he stopped in his tracks. And turned back to Caprice, who was still standing in the doorway.  
“Rain. He says that nothing I have experienced is real. What does he mean?”  
“That, only he can tell you. Or you must learn on your own. You know as well as he, that there has been parts of your life missing, in the past few days. There has been things you cannot understand no explain, and it has all seemed like a dream. One that you can never escape from. Is it reality, or is it all just hallucination?”  
“I don't know the answer.”  
“Then go find it.” 

She shut the door, and watched Jake walk off into the snowy world.  
Donalbain chuckled and held his cup of tea close to his mouth. “Life sucks.” He snickered and finished the last sip. He set it down and returned his attention to the roaring, glowing fire. 

***

Chapter 5 (Blood loss on a bathroom floor) 

The tall, police building scraped the black sky’s belly. Standing tall, and strong with all lights out but one. It was about midnight, or later, and Bingham sat his ass down in his uncomfortable office chair and went about his paperwork fustratedly. He looked at his watch and leaned back in the chair, just able to hold his weight. He was expecting company. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a cigar.  
Soon, the door opened and Sal entered the cluttered office.  
“You wanted to see me?”  
“I called you about two hours ago.” He said lighting his cigar.  
“I was busy.”  
“Yah, whatever. Take a look at this.” He said and spun around the pictures on his desk so Sal could see them. They were close-ups of that woman left to die in the alley. Blood now a much greater puddle than before. “Like the rest of the murders like this one, the bodies are completely mutilated.”  
“I see.” Said Sal.  
“All the bio’s of these victims are the same. Young females, with no families or relatives anywhere in the entire city. Some of them might have even been whores, like this one.”  
“You don't know what they are.” Said Sal. “Maybe you shouldn’t judge them like that.”  
“You don't know either, Keith.”  
“Any links?”  
“Whoever it is, he likes to use silver bullets. I have no idea who this person thinks he is, but that might cost a pretty penny to pull off one of these things.”  
“Weird.” Said Sal.  
“I mean, who does this guy think he is? Wesley Snipes? Silver bullets... ... Anyway, this is the first of it’s kind. I mean, after what has been happening out there, I’m beginning to believe just about anything.” He took a long drag on his cigar and spewed the wretched smoke out the side of his mouth. Sal could imagine the toll it’s taking on the fat man’s heart. Bingham swallowed hard and placed the cigar between his yellowing teeth and spoke confidently. “Don't worry. We have round the hour security on all jewelry shops. That mother fucker probably isn’t buying all that silver.”  
Sal looked at him in astonishment. “Your kidding.” He said. Fearful, even. “All the shops in the city.”  
“No. I’m not fuckin’ with you. I told you, I’m beginning to believe those god damn phony tabloids.” Said the fat man. “What I don't understand, is why these girls have absolutely no background. It’s like they came right out of thin air.”  
“You don't have any suspects, do you?”  
“Actually, I do.” He said, and pulled out another picture from his papery mess. “His name is Flare Killbourne.” Bingham handed Sal the picture. There in the picture, was a tall, thin man with a wrinkly face.  
“You think this geezer can mutilate someone?” He said, leaning over the desk.  
“They found a little girl in his freezer about ten years ago. Now, he’s into the latest organized crime.”  
“What?!” Said Sal. Totally astonished and disgusted. “Your kidding.”  
“I’m afraid not.”  
Sal pounded his fist into the desk. “And you want me to take care of it.”  
“Would I have called you in the middle of the night if I didn't need your help?”  
Sal looked at the picture closer.  
“You say he was found guilty of murder before?”  
“Yah. He’s no stranger to the court. They somehow found him innocent, and he returned to the streets. Ever since then, I’ve had my eye on him.” His voice seemed to suffer.  
“Hey, I know this guy.” Said Salvo.  
Bingham took the cigar out of his mouth and leaned closer to Sal. “What?”  
“He owns a safe-house for a bunch of Goths down on McFeirson Street.”  
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. Obviously, the two thought about the public speaking and all the news fluttering around Bingham’s head and the weight upon his shoulders. Finally, the fat man spoke up.  
“Come-on, Keith. You’ve known me since you were at your mumma’s papilla. You know as well as I do that...”  
“No. I don't, Ray.” Snapped Sal.  
“The mayor’s decision was completely out of my control. The non-conformers are history because of this creature issue. Not because they don't belong. I’m not in the business of telling this city who belongs and who doesn’t. I am here to uphold the law. Had I influenced his decision in any way, I am sorry. But it was out of my control. Do I hate them? No. Never. I regard them a part of our society just as much as all the queers, blacks and Jews. But if a black man was to commit a crime, I would throw his ass in jail because he is a criminal. Not because he is what he is. And I will do the same for a man in black leather pants and piercings in his nose.”  
“But because of these creatures, people want to find someone to blame.”  
“Of course.” Said Bingham. Clearing his throat. “Let them blame the Goths. The society decides what to do. I, on the other hand have a job to do. And my job is to stop these young ladies from meeting an early grave.”  
Sal took the picture and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.  
“I’ll visit this man’s safe-house tomorrow. Just don't let the media your hunting for their head-honcho.”  
“Weather it’s Flare or not, I don't know. But whoever it is... I will find this bastard. As long as I’m breathing in and out, I will be hunting him. 

***

Outside, it began to snow. Now, it fell as gently as cotton blowing in summer air. Though this are was far more bitter. Soft and bulky clusters of the white stuff drizzled down and landed softly on top of Rain’s head. It was cold, but he didn't notice. He was in his happy place, high above the city. Sometimes, he would just spend hours up on the rooftops to stare out into the open skies. He liked the darkness of the night sky. If he could, he would pluck out every beautiful star above, so that it would be darker. There, he perched. On the edge of a twenty-something story building and breathed in the cold air. It wasn't cold, but enough to see your own breath. He knew it was to get colder soon, but he didn't want to leave his happy place. Little spots of melted snow rested upon his blood-red goggles, and he wiped them away like tears. He smiled.  
“Hi there.” Said Caprice from behind him. “I see your in your happy-place.”  
Rain smiled and nodded. “I love it up here.” He said.  
The girl wore a heavy winter jacket, but snuggled up to him for extra warmth. He smiled more readily.  
“The boy you found ran away.” She said. He didn't look at her, but he sighed.  
“He’ll be back.”  
“Yah. But before he left, he figured out what Flare was all about.”  
“What does he think?”  
“What do you think he thinks? He’s petrified.” She said, brushing a little snow off of his long black hair, then kissed him on the head. “He’s hiding something.”  
“Like what?” asked Rain.  
“I don't know. He wouldn't say.”  
The lights below glimmered in a sea of bright, gleeful colors. It seemed like nothing has changed since these monsters of darkness protruded from the abyss. Rain didn't quite realize how people were just able to just deal with it, and not just panic. Many of them don't know that safety was nearby. Somewhere they can go to and be safe from the creatures. Still, their fate was inevitable. Did they just accept this, or simply deny it? Many dark nights, the man with the red goggles would sit up here and wonder about how life would be different if they had only known. A man would be considered crazy, if he just came up to the mayor and told him that vampires walked the streets at night. But on the other hand, when faced with the problem of man-eating creatures suddenly terrorizing the city, it was a setback. Reality.  
“Flare said the end is near.”  
“What are we going to do?”  
“I don't know. The mayor is shittin’ bricks because he knows that the end is near. He’s just paying the police chief to tell the people to sit back and relax, so that Haven wont be overpopulated. That way, all these people...” he said pointing down at the city. “...would shut up and die. He already chose who would die and who would live.”  
The snow began to fall heavier now. The sky turned from a black, to a misty gray and poured the misery.  
“Are you going to leave again tonight?”  
“I have to.”  
“No. Please stay.”  
“I’m sorry. I have to go. Those people don't deserve ill-fates.”  
She backed away from him with hurt eyes. “Who are you to decide what fate they suffer?”  
Rain stood up on the ledge and Caprice caught a glimpse of the two black Uzi’s from under his cape.  
“Better my way, than by the Demon’s way.”  
“Come home tonight.” She said.  
“I will, baby. I promise.”  
Caprice took a few steps back away from the edge, and watched with her arms crossed for comfort, as Rain leaped over the edge and disappeared into the snowy blur. 

 

***

Cold, hungry and defeated by the winter’s bitter wrath, Jake scampered from building to building, trying to find someone who will help him. But no-one ever takes a second glance at the shoeless punks that sleep in the drafty doorways of the ghetto. Still, with feet submerged in a few inches of snow, he trudged on. His feet were beginning to turn blue. The wind didn't help much either. Blistering cold was only aided by the icy breath of Jack Frost. Leaving icicles in the veins of those without shelter. Jake’s hands made frequent trips from his armpits to his ears. He was wondering. He has only been out here for a few hours, but in this dead of night, it felt like an eternity. He didn't even know where he was going. Like a lemming, marching off the icy reality to his doom, he remembered how he had once had a home. He once had a family. Now, his entire life was gone.  
Soon, the building on his right offered some sympathy. A neon-glowing ‘open’ sign, and a gleeful light that welcomed midnight coffee dwellers. Jake walked in, and avoided the eyes of those who didn't fully understand why he was out in the cold without winter clothing. The bar smelled like an old closet, and smoke hung heavily in the air, smothering from wall to wall. Jake soon came to the realization that this wasn't that of the cleaner bars out there. He immediately made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.  
It was warm and dank. The smell of floor cleaner merged with the stench of piss and filth, and suffocated Jake with it’s humidity. The walls were a light blue, tiled and faded. Many missing. The constant dripping sound from a sink tap or leaky faucet weeped away, and filled the four walls with it’s repetitious monotone. The light was bright, for some reason, and filled the entire clammy place with this whitish glow that made the walls a shade lighter. The place made Jake want to throw up.  
At least his feet were thankful of being out of the snow. They were red and peeling. Ice wedged between his toes and melted, leaving trickles of water that washed some blood away. It was now, he noticed he had left a light trail. “Shit.” He cursed and dispensed himself a wad of paper towel.  
He hobbled over to a stall and sat down on the toilet-seat. Carefully, he began dabbing his numb, bloody feet. Soon, the paper towel was almost completely spotted with blood, and he tossed it to the ground in disgust. More disgust with himself, than with the blood.  
He paused. No, he froze. He felt as though something was watching him. His head didn't move, but his ocean blue eyes that overpowered the faint colour of the rest of the room darted around and realized what was around him. As he turned to look at the claustrophobic walls, the words scratched into them came into focus. Your not here. Your already dead. They’ve come for me. The end is nigh!  
Jake stared at all sorts of messages like this, on every side of the walls that surrounded him. He was afraid.  
Nowhere is safe. Innocent. Kill me now! All different writings, fonts, styles, probably from many different people. Some carved with blades, some pens, perhaps even fingernails. As Jake stared at them, the words poped into his mind and stayed there. Soon, it was like they were whispering to him. Whispering to him his fate. He tried to pull away from them, but there, in his mind they stayed. He closed his eyes and covered his ears and rested his head on his knees as he tried to shut them out. Yet still they whispered. Like as though they were cycling through the story of his life. Birth, Work, Breathe, Nurture, Cry, Acknowledge existence, discover, die!  
“No!” he whispered.  
Silence. He sat there covering his ears, and breathed. There he sat for about half an hour. Completely undisturbed. The humid stuffiness of this place was a comfort, mainly from the warmth. Here was home for the night. Somewhere where he could think.  
As the water dripping in the distance bored into his mind, he thought about how Rain was able to do the things he was able to do. He knew inside, that he hasn’t seen the last of the goggled man, yet. And when e does see him again, he will have his answers. 

Soon, Jake heard the bathroom door open, and someone enter the dank bathroom. Jake brought his cold feet up onto the toilet seat with him, so that no-one would see him in there.  
Through the thin cracks between each suffocating stall, Jake peered out. The tears in his red-framed eyes made his vision blurry, but it was enough to see out the cracks.  
One, a tall brunette man, in a black jacket, and a blond scantily-clad woman, bursting out of a long trench jacket which probably belonged to her estranged husband.  
She aggressively pressed the brunette man up against the damp wall, and kissed him with burning desire. Passionately. Savagely. Between every kiss, came small gasps of mad anticipation. Her long, almost bare legs ran up and down the man’s. As she struggled to contain herself.  
Jake looked away in disgust and embarrassment. He closed his eyes and leaned his heavy head on the dirty wall beside him. He wished the ground would just open and swallow him up. He wanted to flush himself down the toilet.  
With long, blood-red nails, the woman struggled to unbutton the brunette man’s shirt, and eventually ripped it open.  
“I didn't catch your name.” Said the man, trying to calm himself.  
“Vera.” She said, and directed her struggles to her skirt. “What’s your name, sexy?”  
“Keith.”  
She returned her long nail’s to his neck, and scratched ever so erotically.  
“Where’d you get those scars?” She said, kissing up his neck. He hesitated.  
“Close encounter with a wild animal.”  
“You like them wild?” Teased the woman, as she began to bite his neck softly.  
Sal threw his head back in pleasure, and closed his eyes. Her teeth barely dented his skin, and gently roamed around his veins. Periodically, she’d move back and fourth from his mouth to neck, licking a path down his neck, before biting again. Soon, the biting became harder. Short gasps of shock emitted from Sal’s mouth. Still, he let her bite. The pain began to bloom, from a erotic tease to way past the line. A small spot of blood formed from the small marks on his neck, but wasn't enough to flow. Still, he let her bite.  
Slowly, behind his back, he pulled a small silenced pistol from the back of his belt. He gripped the handle tightly, and endured the pain. Not yet. He waited. She stopped and moved back to his mouth and kissed him one last time before springing her attack. Slowly, like a cat in the grass, she moved in to bite him. This time’s for real.  
Immediately, he pushed her away and pointed the pistol at her. He squeezed off a shot, and took her by surprise. Her shoulder ripped almost from her socket, the silver bullet leaving a sizzling cavity before exploding in the tile wall behind her. Her long, razor-sharp fangs let out a piercing scream, and she stumbled backwards. Jake absolutely freaked in the confined stall.  
With a satisfying look of authority, Sal took a step forward, and aimed his next shot to kill. Immediately, the vampire pounced. Gripping Sal’s wrist tightly, and turning the barrel of the pistol away from herself. Two more shots fired off in high-pitched blasts, and shattered the damp tiles on the wall. With superior strength, she grabbed his throat and tossed him across the bathroom like a rag doll. His back crashed violently into the locked door to which Jake was hiding, before crashing to the ground. The gun separated from his grip and slid across the wet floor. Sal rolled to his feet, painfully, but the creature was already gone. 

Jake sat there frozen, and tried his best not to breathe too hard.  
Sal picked himself off the ground and stuffed the gun back into his belt behind him. He doubled over for a second to nurse his ribs. He gritted his teeth in pain, and wiped his sweaty forehead. Not in a while did one get away from him. He limped over to the sink and ran some water. As he brought it up to his face, he drank a sip from his cupped hands and rubbed it on his face and through his hair. Clearing him from the shock. The cold water felt good on his skin. He paused to listen for a second. He wasn't alone. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that the door he had stricken, remained closed.  
He turned to it and immediately kicked it open with immense force. The door just barely missed Jake and broke the lock and one hinge clean off. Jake was stunned. Sal grabbed him by the neck and jerked him out of the stall.  
“What did you see?!” Snapped Salvo.  
“I.... I...” Stuttered Jake, as Sal pinned him up against the wall. Receiving no immediate response, Sal unsheathed a steel blade from his belt and pressed the boy up against the wall with his powerful forearm. “I didn't see anything!” Cried the boy.  
“Liar.”  
“No. I didn't see anything. I just heard some gunshots.”  
“Do you know who I am?” Snapped Sal.  
Jake took a second to wonder. “No.”  
“Did you hear her say my name?! Do you know who I am!” Yelled Sal.  
“No! I don't know you! I never heard your name!” 

Sal dropped him to the damp floor and stumbled back to the sink.  
Why was it so important that he never heard his name? Just the question, like the many other questions running through Jake’s head, made him go mad. He thought about it. Like all the other questions, he had to know them. So he unintentionally tried his hardest to remember. His mind flashed him vivid parts of the past half hour, and with the images came the words scratched in the walls. The silent, piercing gunshots rang out in his head, and the words ‘Die, Die Die’ screamed at him. Then, it hit him.  
“Keith.” He whispered.  
Sal turned around. “What?”  
“Your name’s Keith.” As Sal turned around, a golden badge on his belt glimmered in the unnecessarily bright light. “Your a cop.” 

Sal covered his face in his hands and shook his head in sorrow. Then, his tortured mind set off inside of him.  
“No... you didn't.” He whispered to himself, as he refused to believe that the boy just said that. “You didn't just say that.” He repeated. Sal’s face began to glow red, and veins popped out of his forehead.  
Jake saw this and his large blue eyes were wide with fear once again. Yet he didn't try to run. He couldn’t. His legs felt numb, and weak. His mind yelled at him to run, but he couldn’t even bring himself to crawl. Slowly, with all his might, he began to stand. 

Salvo snapped. He reached over and grabbed Jake by the throat. With amazing strength, he lifted Jake off the ground and slammed his body up against the wall. The boy saw a quick flicker of light reflect of the steel blade, before it disappeared into his stomach. Pain shot up Jake’s torso and the wind escaped him like one’s last breath lost in the blackness of space. Jake’s jaw dropped open, emitting small, choking, gurgling sounds. Vast endless white-capped oceans could never hope to achieve the sparkle of this boy’s eyes, transcending far beyond the borders of time itself. Short, violent gasps betrayed his cry for mercy. Sal dropped the boy where he stood, and dragged the blade out of his abdomen. The cold steel, dripping life onto the moist floor, and diffused amidst the vapor.  
“I’m sorry.” Said Sal. Turning his back on the dying young man, Sal wiped the blood off with his hand and left the boy there to die. Jake sputtered and curled up in a ball to live his last few seconds. The pain was only paralleled by the sorrow and regret. He closed his eyes. He knew it was over soon. He thought to himself; his goals were never to succeed. His life was never to be free. With the last of his strength, he reached into his back Jean pocket as he choked back the blood in his mouth.  
A Picture. An icon. On it, was the face of a beautiful young woman. One that he loved deeply. Deep as the universe is vast, and endless as the stars that make it magical. The ocean in his eyes wept a single salty stream down his face as he looked upon the only thing that made him happy in his life.  
The inscription on the back read:

To my one and only love, Jake. We will be together soon. My God guide you and always know that you are in my heart.  
Love always,  
Cassandra. 

Simple words. Immense feeling. Jake closed his eyes again. He realized that some people were never meant to be happy. Oh, how he wished that he could meet her in Haven. To do so, was his obsession. His life, after his parents were taken from him one dark night. He held the picture tight in his hand, as his vision began to fade. 

Blur. Chaos. The ceiling was just a white blur, and the walls were nothing but a shade bluer. His vision was dwindling, yet as he stared into death’s face, he was able to make out a figure looking down at him. Blurry... But it was man. A man in a suit, complete with a top-hat. A man with blue hair.  
It was Donalbain. And as he picked the boy off the floor, he felt the last breath escape the young man’s lungs, and his hands go limp. Softly, like a leaf separating from a perishing tree, a small picture floated from the boy’s grasp and landed softly on the moist floor. A spot of blood in the bottom right, it’s only flaw. A heart beating without the other. 

*** 

 

Chapter 6 (Know thyself)

Caprice looked much different away from her black makeup. Still, she was beautiful. She liked to sleep without any. As delicate as the silky sheets she sleeps in, her long, beautiful brunette hair engulfed most of her pillow. It was dark in her room. Very dark. Almost not enough to see. Like an overwhelming cloud in a saddened sky, the darkness spread across her surroundings. Silence. Not even the feint sounds of breaths.  
The door opened. Much like the many other nights that crept by under unsuspecting midnight hours. Too many times, innocent blood was shed on the white sheets of their dreams. Light filled about a quarter of the room, then disappeared again, as a man entered the darkness. Yet Caprice still remained still. Perched like a vulture watching a dying animal, he loomed over the bed. Tall, dark and dangerous.  
Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared into the darkness away from the man. She sat up, and listened. Silence. Stillness. Fear. She instantly turned to the dark figure and gasped.  
“Caprice.” Said the warm, friendly voice, as he flicked on the lamp on the table at her bedside. The light, blissful glow spread across the room dimly, and offered a tranquil feeling that washed over the darkness.  
She exhaled. “Rain.” She reached her arms up and embraced his warm hug. “You came.”  
“I said I would.”  
Relieved, and somehow angered that he snuck in like that, she pulled him down on the bed playfully. Holding him closely. The smile on her beautiful face said it all.  
The bed was warm and soft, and Rain’s wet hair began to leave a wet spot on the sheets. She gently brushed the back of her hand across his face, and felt how smooth it was. Rain smiled gently, but his eyes were still covered by those thick, red-lensed goggles.  
Soon, the smile on her face faded to a blank expression.  
“What’s the matter?” h asked gently.  
“Don't do this anymore.” She pleaded, whispering softly.  
“I can't stop.”  
“Why?”  
“They don't deserve it. It’s better this way.”  
“I just want the old you back.”  
“I am still me.”  
“No your not. Your someone else. Behind that mask is someone I don't know anymore.”  
She put a hand on his face, and stared into the blood-red lenses. Then, with the tips of her fingers, she touched the goggles. With a swift action, he caught her hand and guided it away from taking them off.  
In disgust, she pulled away from him and sat up in bed. She did not want to look at him.  
“Caprice, please.” He began. “I’m just trying to help them.”  
She said nothing for a while, and still avoided looking at him.  
“When will this all end?”  
“When their all dead.” He said bluntly. “Soon, the outside world will be too dangerous to live in, and we will return to Haven. I promise.” 

***

The old Gray man, Flare, sat by that enormous fireplace with the ominous mirror. This time, instead of drinking tea, he poured a glass of straight rye for him and an old friend. The old man’s hands were cold and wrinkled, but his grip was firm and had not the slightest sign of being shaky. The brownish-gold rye poured into the crystal glasses that glimmered in the firelight.  
Rain descended the steps. Finally out of his night-stalking clothing and steel-chain shirt, he pulled a tight gray rib-shirt over his moderately muscular build. His long black hair was down reaching his shoulders, and his black pants and boots were still intact. His goggles still firm on his face. Must be a super-hero thing.  
“How is she?” Asked Flare.  
“She’s alright. She’s eager to be back in Haven.”  
“Likewise.” Said the old Vampire as he handed Rain a glass.  
“I hate it here on the surface, now.”  
“We all do. Why do you hate it?”  
“The people. I hate... people.” The two of them sat down in two of those hard-leather chairs by the fire. “You?”  
“It’s cold. It’s always cold.”  
Rain took a good drink of his rye and smiled. Exhaling a satisfied breath. “I love that.” He said, referring to the numbing feeling of alcohol running through his system. Drinking with Flare brought back many past memories. A comfortable silence passed for a few minutes, then Flare spoke up again on a serious topic.  
“The fifth phase is in effect.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“The prophesies. They indicate that exactly half of the process is over. Half has come true!”  
“The prophesies.” Said Rain with a blunt, criticizing disbelief.  
Flare ignored his tone of sarcasm, and continued to explain. “They said the end will soon be decided.”  
“What did that damn book of yours say?”  
The old man paused and looked into those mesmerizing red lenses. “There are five more until the end.”  
“Until Armageddon.” Said Rain.  
“They said that mankind would turn on itself and rip themselves apart from society. Precisely, they outcasted all races, rebels, and unfortunately, you. The Goths.”  
Rain looked away from the old man and sipped his drink. He was disgust. Not only of the ignorance of man, but that of how discriminatory they were as well. He shook his head, as he peered into the his glass.  
“I still have a hard time believing.”  
“What is belief, Rain? And who said anyone wasn’t going to have a rough time; watching their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, be dragged off into the shadows by these fucking beasts from hell?! Yet you still don't believe.”  
“Not everyone believes in the bible.”  
“No, but did you think Jesus would have believed it, if he heard it? If anyone should, it should be you... You! The very one to watch each and every event unfold in front of you, and still you don't believe them.”  
“I think you rely on them too much.”  
“Oh, yes. And you. You who cannot accept anything that requires reliance. Faith. Devotion.” Flare thought twice about saying what he wanted to say next, but he did anyway. “You hate relying on anything... Perhaps, that’s why she is drifting away from you.”  
“Watch it, old man.”  
Flare looked up at the all-knowing, all-seeing mirror that rested upon the stone fireplace. In it’s perspective, neither of them sat by the fire. Instead two uncomfortable-looking chairs remained alone collecting dust.  
“The great ‘Demon slayer’, Rain.” Said Flare. Mocking the title given to him on the streets.  
“The great.” Said Rain, throwing his words from his mouth like as if they were bitter.” There’s nothing great about this... This... freak.”  
“No?” asked Flare, as he got up to refill his glass. Rain stared at his drink and swirled the golden alcohol around in the bottom.” I don't know anyone else who can disappear into thin air in clear daylight. I don't know anyone else, who can slay demons and bring back their teeth on a necklace. And I certainly don't know anyone who can leap tall buildings in a single bound.”  
“You make me sound like a fairy.” Grumbled Rain.  
“No, a super-hero.”  
“Fuck off.” He said with a smile.” Super-hero. I’m a cereal killer, Flare. A fucking mass murderer.”  
“No. Your a Phenom.” Flare held out the bottle and filled Rain’s glass as he spoke in intrigue. Making solid eye contact with his red-lensed goggles.” You have the power of making people think whatever you want them to think. You can take... reality... and make them dreams. Dreams so real, they seem like...” He began to whisper.” Physical existence.”  
“And, like a super-hero, without my costume and mask... I am nothing.”  
“It’s not the costume that makes you, Rain. It’s what you are on the inside. Your a Vampire.”  
Rain looked away from Flare’s dull, gray eyes and into the fire. Still, avoiding the mirror.  
“Like your thousands of ancestors like you, you should stand proud and marvel at our accomplishments. And since you are what you are, you cannot change it. It’s inside of you, like your DNA.” Flare paused to let it all sink in before again, regulating his tone. “But your different. And is it not you whom that beautiful young lady fell in love with?” He said. Pointing to the stairs acceding up to bedroom to which the ravishing one sleeps. Flare took a larger gulp from his glass, proud of himself for making a good point.  
“True, but I am not the ‘Phenom’ you... they... make me to be.”  
“Boy...”  
“Have you ever killed in cold blood, old man?” Rain stood and began to pace in front of the fireplace raking his hand through his long black hair with crushed emotion. “Have you ever stared into the eyes of children, as their life faded within your own doing? Have you ever slept in the arms of your loved one, knowing that life was but a gift... A simple, marvelous gift that... that you have taken away from the innocent. And as you stare at the blood on your hands and smell the gunpowder drifting across the plain of death, have you ever thought of how your life will taste tomorrow?” Rain looked into the calm grayness of Flare’s old tired eyes, and blinked away all his emotion. “Let me tell you. It’s like I’m already dead.”  
“Rain...” The old, thin man stood up and put a soft hand on his friend’s shoulder. Rain turned to face the old man, and followed his offer to sit back down. “I’ve been around for a long time.” He began. Sounding like a father figure.  
“I know.”  
“And I have seen my share of heartaches. Living day by day, watching the sun rise and set, casting poison beams into the dark cracks that our kind has called home.” He pointed at Rain’s chest and held his head high, sneering at it’s callousness.” Your heart... It bleeds with this monster called guilt. But to be a vampire... is not to feel? No. Do you think this old heart hasn’t had it’s share of pain, Rain? Let me tell you, young man. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”  
“Flare..” Rain began to speak, but the old gray man cut him off.  
“Never before have you lived long enough to see your wife die of what they call ‘natural causes’. Really what they meant, is that she was just too old to suffer in this hell any longer. To this day, I have not desired another. I live here, living alone. Feeding alone. Raising young hearts like you and Donalbain, and Caprice... all in hopes that someday, I will learn to love again. Or... hurry up and die.”  
“Flare...” Rain said again.  
“And you thought you knew pain. You will never know pain.” 

The sound of silence was broken by the front door being kicked open. A cloud of snow burst in the door, and Donalbain stumbled in, with a limp young body in his arms.  
“Somebody help!” Yelled Don. The blood running down his forearms and into his jacket.” He stopped breathing!” 

***

The basement of the old house was even more delicately decorated than the long intricate hallways that weaved around the main floor. Tables were littered with old papers, and candles. Dusty walls and cob-webbed ceilings spelled home to the elder vampire, Flare. It was here, he toiled long hours, reading scripts, writing, and most of all, preying. No cauldrons boiled over an open fire, and no purple spells were drank from golden gauntlets. Instead, the old vampire would curse slow-speed internet on the laptop on his desk, while he yelled for Donalbain to turn down the stereo upstairs. Many nights he stayed down here, and did this. Writing. Preying. And more writing.  
But now, his table has been swept clean. The boy’s body has been laid out on it. Blood has engulfed his shirt, and drained his consciousness away. He lied still, as Flare looked him over with a heavy heart.  
Caprice sat on an adjacent table, her once sleepy eyes now filled with tears. Her night-gown hung loosely from her perfect figure, to which she was totally unaware of.  
Rain spoke to Donalbain fiercely in the corner of the dark basement. Caprice listened, trying to hear their conversation.  
“Where was he?”  
“After you fucks let him out there without a jacket or shoes, I knew he wasn't going far. I followed him. Turns out, I lost the little bastard’s footprints. By the time I found him, he was on the bathroom floor. Bleeding out of fuckin’ god knows where.”  
“Oh my god, Don.”  
“What do you want me to do?!” Donalbain hushed his angered tone. A tad bit too fuming to think clearly.” Maybe if you never would have let him go, he wouldn't have come back here with a knife in his gut!”  
Caprice lowered her head and dropped a tear onto her gown.  
“Is he going to be alright, Flare?” She asked quietly.  
“No. No, my love. He’s drifting slowly.” Said the old man. Harsh.  
“Can't we take him to a hospital?”  
“Hospitals require identification.” The gray man sighed.  
“What are we going to do?” pleaded Caprice.  
“Leave him like a stray.” Snapped Donalbain. “Let him die.”  
“I should have never let him go. It’s my fault.” She began to cry.  
Rain tore away from his argument with the blue haired man and walked over to her.  
“Oh, baby.” He said gently, whispering into her ear, as she hugged him and cried.” He’ll be fine. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have made him stay.”  
“No...” She sobbed.” No...”  
“Jesus Christ, Rain! Shut her up.” Yelled Donalbain from across the room.  
Rain shot a fierce glare over to Don, who just returned a look of annoyance. Rain stormed over to Don and grabbed him by the shirt and brought his face intimidatingly close to his own. “What did you say?” Seethed the goggled brute as the man with blue hair tried to wriggle free, not breaking their irate stare.  
“Rain, take her back to bed.” Said Flare. Rain released Don and shoved him aside. His frilly, blood-drenched shirt ruffled as he arrogantly stood up to Rain. “Please, go.” Said the gray man again. 

Rain and Caprice walked back up the stairs, ignoring Don’s provoking murmuring. The blue haired man pulled himself up onto a table and sat there like a child, too short for his feet to reach the ground. He crossed his slightly stalky arms and shook his head in disgust at his friend, Rain.  
The two of them were like brothers. Many times have they saved one another from trouble, and yet they rage an internal war between themselves; day in and day out.  
Once Rain and Caprice were out of sight, Flare turned to Donalbain. Despite his anger, the old gray man spoke quietly and calmly.” Have you no mercy?”  
“Has anyone?! Look at what we do out there, old man. Me and him.” He pointed in the direction where Rain left. “Only... he is different. He’s not like you.”  
“What do you mean?” said the old gray man. Still retaining his angered tone strongly in his voice.  
“He’s not just a vampire. He’s something else.” Said Don. Flare said nothing. Don studied the absent look on the old gray man’s expression. The arrogance in Don’s eyes soon turned quizzical. He knew Flare and Rain kept a lot of things from him and Caprice, but he had always left it alone. Still, he could not keep curiosity from tormenting him.  
A wooden stand, like a podium, stood in the dusty corner by some makeshift candleholders, dripping of wax from outdated candles. On the podium, was the book. Donalbain knew it only as ‘the book’ because he knew nothing about it. Flare read from it and studied it often, placing ribbons on left places, daring not to fold a corner. The book was laced around the edges with an intricately weaved steel border, that helped protect it’s brown, dusty hardcover. Donalbain hopped off the table and walked over to the stand. The book lied open, spilling the truth of centuries across the room for all who could decipher it. He turned the page with the corners, careful not to get any blood on it, from his blood-dried hands.  
Flare pulled a white sheet over Jake, and looked over at Donalbain.  
“He’s gone now.”  
“What’s in this book anyway?”  
“The truth.” Said Flare. His hands muffled his voice, as he rubbed his wrinkled face and sore old eyes.  
Don ran his eyes across the yellowish-brown pages and through the very years that this book has foretold. He ran his hand down the soft, red ribbon that parted the pages and rubbed the centuries of dust between his fingers. “What does this mean?” he asked. An unrecognizable text listed ten lines. 

“It states the past, present and future. Ever since the word of Haven, has been whispered in the streets, this book has foretold the rest. The Vampire nation knew of this era for a long time. The highest priests prophesied it’s coming.”  
“So why did they make Haven if they knew this shit was on the way?”  
“Because they had no choice. Back then, it was try or die.”  
Don lifted the heavy side of the book and slammed it shut. A cloud of dust filled the air as he began “But that’s not all it says, is it?”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“You know more than your telling us.”  
“Who?”  
“Me, Rain and Caprice. I’ve seen your work before, old man. There’s a lot in there about a man. A man named Salvo.”  
“How do know this?”  
“It also said that the Devil himself will walk the earth.” Flare stopped questioning, and instead locked a cold stare in Donalbain’s eyes. “But you didn't tell us all that, did you Flare?”  
“You were happier not knowing.”  
Don gave a cynical chuckle. “What else are you hiding?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Liar!”  
Flare’s tone erupted and his upper lips seemed to snarl, like an animal. Barring two long fangs, that only get duller with age, but still were nevertheless ferocious. “You already know! Why do you ask?”  
“I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”  
“I have hidden it from all of you for a reason! If I told you, you wouldn't have listened. You wouldn't have believed me! Yes, the Devil will walk the earth exactly half way through the ten prophesies. Hell on earth is now!” His words spewed from his mouth like a low growling, forewarning the death of a prey. “Our only hope is to find him. And stop him.” 

Donalbain’s eyes turned cold and frightened, as he stared away from the gray man. “How much time?”  
“Almost none. He will come from the darkness like the rest of those demons before him, a man. As far as we know, he may walk the earth now. This very minute.”  
Donalbain turned back to the dusty old podium, where the old book lay shut, and picked up a couple of sheets of paper that lied underneath it. Standard eight and a half by eleven computer paper, with a printed digital picture, covered in dust. It was of a man. A tall man with very short brown hair, honest, good-looking complexion. Three parallel scars on the back-left side of his neck.  
“No...” Whispered Don.  
Flare continued. “The book also spoke of our savior. One whom would give his life to save those, not on earth, but this time, for those in Haven. For it is they, who are destined to survive the last prophesy.”  
“I saw this guy.” Said Don. His hand beginning to shake the picture ever so slightly. “Leaving the bar. Where I found the boy... Can he be...”  
“It’s too soon to tell for sure.”  
“You said there will be a savior...”  
“Yes. We don't know when, nor where, nor who.”  
“Liar!” yelled Donalbain. “You know it’s Rain. It has been all along! I knew he was different than any ordinary vampire. You just hid from us like everything else.”  
“Impossible.”  
“How is it impossible, Flare? How does Rain do those things he does?”  
Flare avoided answering the question. It was true, Flare did know more than he was telling everyone, but the truth was irrelevant at the moment. Donalbain would soon find out, but now was not the time.  
“It’s Rain, isn’t it. That’s why he is able to do all those magical things! Those fucked-up supernatural things!”  
“No. The savior is to be a mortal.” Began Flare. “A mortal without the thirst of blood... a mortal that can tolerate more than just a sunset’s glaze, and can walk the daylight hours never to be afraid of being what he is! Our savior is yet to be found.” One look into those hard, gray eyes, and Don knew that he was telling the truth.

Flare walked back over to the table and hung his head by the dead body of the boy. He pulled the sheet off of his face, to look at it’s magnificence again. “Still, Even though I am a cold-blooded killer... a vampire... I can still... feel.” 

Don tossed the picture back onto the stand and took a few steps closer to the body on the table. “Thousands of these fucking lemmings die, wave after wave at our hands, and at yours. Still, you wont let go of them.”  
“They are like my own children.”  
“You fucking eat them, Flare.”  
“Overbearing worm.”  
“What’s so different about this boy?” Flare said nothing. Don noticed the old man look away, and fed off of Flare’s quietness to gain the upper hand. “Huh?” he said almost hostile.  
The old gray man pulled the sheet over the boy’s still face and hung his head shamefully. Deep inside of him, he felt like a bright star had blinked out and had been forgotten by the universe. Just another star. But he missed it. He missed it’s brightness that where now sits a black empty spot. Like the empty spot in his heart.  
“It’s like drowning a burlap bag of kittens.” Said Flare. “To you, they are just pests, but to some... they’re precious. Once you look one in the eye, he has you. Once he makes... that little sound, and your heart turns to ice. But to let a human die... ... is like killing an angel.”  
“You fucking eat them.” Said Donalbain. Being somewhat glad that he is not a Vampire.  
“Like all beings on this planet, we eat to survive. Like you.” Flare turned and stared his cold, infuriated eyes at the blue-haired, stalky man. “Do you think we are heartless? Do you think I had never fallen in love with a human? They aren’t anything but equal to me.” He began to walk towards the blue-haired man, raising his tone. Donalbain subconsciously stepped back. The old gray man was no longer scolding, but now was outright yelling. Releasing balled up anger of a hundred years. “I Haven’t tasted a drop of blood in years. Like a crack addict. I’ve been on a pungent withdrawal that has been eating me alive!”  
“Back off, old man.” Warned Don.  
The old man sighed and turned away from Donalbain. “Get out of my sight.” 

***

 

Chapter 7 (Deal with the Devil) 

A midnight phone-call was as the only sound that stirred across the Bingham manor. Smoke stirred about in the air like a thin fog around Bingham’s desk, in his at-home office. Many hours crept by, phone-lines tied up with business-related affairs, that became the obsession of this nearing retirement veteran.  
“We really don't have much on Flare, but like you said, we’re going to keep trying. I’m not your fucking patsy, so don't expect me to just follow your orders. I don't work for you.” Bingham stuck the last few inches of his cigar back in his mouth, and waited for the man to whom he was speaking to, to reply. There was none, So Bingham continued. “I’ve put my best man on looking into Flare. Keith Salvolech. He’s your man.”  
The man on the phone had a strong, English accent, and sounded young. About mid-twenties. His voice carried an almost arrogant tone, and gave the impression of great intelligence.  
“Our sources have dug up records of past trades with Flare and the black market. Given your knowledge on him and his past, you can probably imagine what he might be doing with the... products. Like you said, you still Haven exactly proven what happened with him and that young child in the freezer, but...”  
“I really can't give a shit if this guy is cannibal, or rapist, or whatever-the-fuck. Arresting his ass and throwing him in jail isn’t going to mean shit to me. It’s what you want. As long as everything works out, We’ll both be happy.”  
“Then shall we meet?”  
“Yah. Come alone and so will I. Sometime in the daylight hours, that’s for sure.”  
“I understand.”  
“I’ve seen some weird shit going on lately, Kahne. All this stuff about creatures and unsolved mysteries crap is all over the news. It’s seriously freakin’ me out.” Said the fat man. He got up from his leather chair and walked over to the dark window. The cool night air made the window cold to the touch, as he leaned his chubby face up to it, and felt the coolness of it on the tip of his nose.  
“So you believe in them?”  
“What?! What’s all this ‘believe’ crap? Believe in what? All I know, is that there’s probably a lot of bug-eyed bible thumpers out there, ready to tell me that there’s a jersey devil, straight out of Detroit, ready to bite me right in the ass.” He strayed away from the window, lagging the long spiral telephone cord with him, wherever he walked. “I’ve got the press out there, hanging off my every word, and now these non-conformist groups are flying off the handle, ... ”  
“Well, you are hunting down one of the safe-house leaders.”  
“Which reminds me, if anyone even finds out I am speaking with you, the station will have my head on a pike, you got that?”  
“Don't worry Ray, the government has a way of keeping secrets. Your in good hands.”  
“Just make sure you get what I want accomplished, and I’ll get you Flare Killbourne. I’m fulfilling my end of the deal, you fulfill yours.”  
“A real Shindler, you are.”  
“You have my list?”  
“Right here in my hands.”  
“I’m not fucking around here, Kahne. I want all the names of those on the list, and their families, to make it into Haven. Can you do that?”  
“Of course. I am a man of my word, Chief.”  
“Those are good people. You get those people into Haven, and I’ll get you Killbourne.”  
“Oh, but that’s not all I want.”  
“That was the deal!”  
“I said I wanted Killbourne silenced. Dead, alive, as long as he doesn’t get in my way. Um... come to think of it, I would prefer him dead. I want him arrested under untraceable, substantial evidence. This isn’t going to be one of those knock-offs, under a sick doctoral government. I want him to... ...suffer.” Kahne’s voice seemed to begin to seethe. It changed from business-man to monster. His voice became raspier, mysterious, and yet still recognizable as human, it now held a coldness which could not be mustered by the human heart. “I want him to live in the depths of the cold steel and damp concrete walls of confinement, and anticipate when the electric chair or lethal injection will grace him with escape from the cruel world. Only, that will never happen. You see, Ray, this old bat will be put to life in prison. Only to find better use of his own shoelaces.”  
A stampede of chills ran across the fat man’s back and around his stocky neck. The young English man’s voice seemed to hold some sort of power. A power that hissed of authority, and vile malice. Bingham has seen some crazy things in his day, but never before was he as scared of another man like this.  
“You want him to kill himself?”  
The man on the phone hissed; “Precisely.”  
Bingham’s hand shook slightly, as he managed to get out two shaky words. “Who are...?”  
The phone line went dead. 

Silence filled the air like the smoke wafting from Bingham’s cigar, and toiled silently around him, choking out all distractions. Stillness and the scent of fear engulfed him. The fat man’s arm slowly put down the receiver, and sat there in the silence. Thinking, breathing.  
A bump outside of the window. The fat man’s attention was drawn to it, like a moth in a light, only he did not move quickly, or barely at all. His somewhat sunken eyes shifted to the glass, and collection of sweat on his brow began to run. The same bump outside the window struck again, and this time, the fat man jumped in startle. From the deep underside of the prevailing, ominous silence, a growl emitted from it and rolled across the throat of a beast, mere inches away from the glass. Darkness completely covering everything. It was hard to imagine if this was real or not. But as the fat man stared and listened, the truth became clearer and clearer. This is what has been out there. This is what has been dominating the news.  
Bingham stood up and took a step closer to the window. Another growl rolled across the glass, and the fat man pulled out his revolver and placed his fat thumb on the hammer. Soon, every step he took, nearing that black window, was another sound that broke the science, and another dozen beats of a old man’s heart. Slowly, he made his way to the dark window. Each step slower than the last, and with each belated, gasping breath his fat heart beat in his throat several pounding times. Soon, he was inches from the window. Staring into the darkness. With his face mere centimeters from the cool window, he peered out into the black abyss, and squinted to make out a figure. Perhaps a back alley dog or a coyote that has gotten into the trash, was all that made the noise. Or so he hoped. His breath escaped his mouth in long, suppressed pants, and marked the window in a thin vapor. Suddenly, he saw something. Something he didn't know how far or near, but it was something indeed, and he held his breath and squinted into the darkness. Suddenly, a reddish-orange pair of eyes opened out of no-where a few inches in front of his face. Just on the other side of the glass. Bingham froze.  
His stomach turned upside-down and he began to quiver, as he noticed the thin, shiny black hairs that surrounded the orbs, perfectly at eye-level with his own. He then noticed, in his paralysis, that the hairs extended across the face of the monster, and down it’s long muzzle, filled with canine-like teeth. Droplets of drool lined the corners of it’s mouth, and it’s hideous face growled savagery and glared insanity through it’s unearthly eyes. It’s black, canine nose breathing calmly on the glass, forming a vapor spot that entirely engulfed a large portion of the window, until only those orangeish eyes existed on the other side of the glass. There they stood. Face to face. Stillness... only... he could hear the breathing. The sound of the hammer cock back on Bingham’s Ruger .357 disrupted the silence, then utter stillness apart from the beast’s breathing returned.  
The moon was no where to be found in that quiet night sky. Stars were many, bright, and far between. The sound of that .357 firing off, sailed across the darkness, and could have reached all the stars in that night sky. Glimmering like falling, broken glass. 

***

 

Chapter 8 (Free Haven) 

The light, mid afternoon hours were hazed by a dim smear of stormy clouds that smothered the sun. Leaking bright beams of light through the cracks, few and far between. The St. Jared’s Hospital brewed with activity, and the ambulances rolled out of the overcrowded parking lot languidly. It’s red and blue lights darted around in the light traces of fog. No siren pierced the chilly air. As the Ambulance rolled down the city streets, the few left roaming the barren streets watched it pass, and looked away in disgust. The clinics were at an all time high, yet the government wouldn't think of accepting patents. Many young people died in that hospital because they didn't receive the expensive treatment, their families were unable to pay. The waiting lists too long for hope to ignite the eyes of dying children. Many times nowadays, the people on the streets would cast rocks at these Ambulances. For rocks speak louder than their helpless words.  
A white, unmarked van passed the Ambulance on the bare street. Headed in the opposite direction.  
“Ready guys?” asked the driver of the white van. A black bellaclava covering all but his eyes. His old gray eyes. All the others in the back nodded. All wore black bellaclavas, armored vests, and heavy assault weapons. The leader of the group, wore black, tight leather pants, a black long-sleeve sweat shirt, and a gray bullet-proof vest. A black bandanna covered his mouth, and tied up behind his long black hair. Large round red-lensed goggles covered his eyes. A pair of 9mm Glock 17’s tucked snugly into holsters under his arms, and a heavy AR 15 snug in the grip of his right hand. Both hands covered by black finger-less gloves. He looked across the van, at his comrades. He reached over and gently messed up the bluish hair of his right hand man. A stalkier man with an entirely black jump-suit, and a small back-pack strapped to his muscular shoulders. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black leather gloves and a pair of 9mm uzi’s hung from long straps wrapped around his neck. He pulled his belaclava over his blue hair and nodded at his friend and leader. The third in the back of the white van, was less armored. She wore a leather suit, that molded to her tall, marvelous body, like as if it was painted on. It was a deep, almost blackish red. In the right light, it seemed purple. Her longer reddish-brown hair was in a ponytail, and reached down her perfectly curved figure to her waist. A red belaclava masked her mouth and nose, hiding her torrid smile that blessed her lips. In one arm, she held a .45 Mandall Assault rifle, with the other, she reached over and brushed her hand across Rain’s jawline, affectionately. She pulled down her belaclava for just a second to kiss his cheek, smiling alluringly. He turned away. Finding absolutely no discouragement, she gleamed her sexy smile, that secretly loathed and envied Caprice. Her name was Eva. As far as her looks took her, was as far as she went. Devilishly arrogant and mischievous, she preyed on the fact that she was more beautiful than Caprice, or so she, and many others thought. Only, she dwells on the past that existed between herself and Rain. Long, long ago. She now, no longer attempts to hide her passion, in an effort to depress and perhaps outplay Caprice. Her biggest problem, was Rain’s loyalty to Caprice.  
The van slowed to a complete stop, and Flare took a second to look over his shoulder, in the back, to make sure everyone was ready. The old man pulled his bellaclava down, so his mouth was exposed. He wanted for everyone to hear what he had to say. With a sigh, he began. “Whatever happens in there, you guys, know that you are saviors. Those that die will die innocently. Not at the hands of evil, but at the hands of mercy. And if any of you do not make it back, know that your brothers and sisters love you and will forever.”  
Donalbain reached across and opened the two doors at the back of the van. 

Back at the safe house, the body of the young boy Jake, lied motionless. The sheet hung over the side of the table, like the dithering embodiment of a ghost. His lungs; never to pump human life again. His arms; nevermore bound to feel human strength. His ocean blue eyes, never to see the sunlight again. Caprice sat a few meters away from him, in the darkness, and stared at the sheet covering his body. Especially the part that rested on his face. She could make-out his features through the thin white sheet, and wished that the mouth or nose would draw in air. But they just stayed motionless. She hung her head and begun to cry. 

That retched hospital smell loomed in the air like the smell of death. Never to reach the outside, the death smell was everywhere. The dull sounds of the intercom’s tired secretary voice, murmured messages throughout the long, bright, white hallways. Stillness in the air suddenly became more present, as the three of them entered the front doors. Hospital smell immediately made Rain cringe. A slightly overweight security officer sitting near the entrance looked up from his paper and stared at the three strangely dressed intruders. Instantly, he risen to his feet, and reached for the pistol on his belt. Rain turned, and sprayed a short burst from his assault rifle across the chest of the security officer. Blood misted into the air, as the officer propelled backward over the back of his chair. Screams immediately filled the main floor, and people scattered like insects of a disturbed nest.  
“Freeze! All of you!” yelled the stalky man. “Freeze!”  
Rain turned to the secretary at the counter immediately to his right, and pointed at her with a finger. “Get on the intercom, and order all security to stay where they are. If anyone approaches this building, we will kill hostages!” The secretary woman froze in fear. “Now, please.” She picked up the phone and called out on the intercom.  
“All security stand down... I said stand down immediately, or they will kill us.” Her voice trembled. “They already killed a security officer. Do what they say.”  
“I want this entire place locked down tight.” Ordered Rain. “Set off the security alarm. Now.” He said calmly. She pressed a button underneath the desk, and the hospital halls were filled with a red-flashing light and the high-pitched sound of a security alarm.  
Donalbain and Eva began to round up people against the wall and lay on their stomachs. As they walked along the wall, with machine guns in hand, the innocent faces of man, woman and child stared up in fear.  
“Don't look at me.” Snapped Donalbain, as the hostages stared at him in horror. Slapping a face away from looking at him, Donalbain began pushing the people around.  
Rain ordered the nurses; “Lock down the doors, all of them. If you run you die. If you call help, everyone will die.” The nurses frantically ran from door to door and locked down them tight. “I want cops outside to see it all.”  
Eva looked at her watch. “Hurry Rain.”  
“Don, you got this place?”  
“Yah, I can hold them. Just get down here before police arrive.” Rain nodded and turned to advance down the long, desolate hallways. “And Rain...” said Don. “Be careful, man.” Rain nodded and began to run down the hallway. When he reached the doors leading to the stairs, he kicked them open, and began to run upward. Eva’s expression 

Caprice walked over to the body on the table. A single tear rolled down her beautiful face, in the path of many others that rolled down before it. The only light was the one that reined down from a small lamp over the table, and darkness loomed everywhere else. Slowly, she ran her gentle fingers over his face covered by the sheet. Tiny tear droplets landed softly on the white sheet, and grew into round little spots. She gently uncovered his upper half. His face was not that of a dead corpse, disfigured and rotting, but rather that of a perfect sleeping boy. His eyes closed gently, and lips sealed as if they had no good-bye to offer the cruel world. 

Eva paced calmly in front of the whimpering hostages on the floor at her feet. Innocent men and women huddled together, the men scowling at the two of them, the women hushing crying children.  
One man's glaring eyes focused hastily on Donalbain, as he walked around, arrogantly, almost strutting with the satisfaction of being in control. Pointing his machine guns in any direction he wanted.  
The man was of larger build. like a bouncer or something, just filling out his tight blue T-shirt perfectly. His goatee neatly taken care of, the same blond as his hair. Calmly, he sat, waiting for the opportune moment to take Don by surprise, and stab him in the back like a pig, with the knife he had already drawn out from behind his back. The blade clicked into place, as the oriental woman beside looked at him and dropped a tear in fear. There, he sat in wait, careful not to draw attention to himself. Still, his eyes glued to Don. His blank expression returned, as Eva walked by.  
"Don, give me the bag." Said Eva, as she lowered her rifle to un-strap it from his stalky back.  
"Be quick." He said. Keeping an eye on all the people sitting up against the wall.  
The man in the blue T-shirt smelled his chance. He tore his eyes off of his victim as he watched her walk out of the room with the bag and rifle. Don paced along the wall, and barked orders to shut up at the people, before walking to the window. "No-body move." He said and turned to the window to pull down the venetian blinds.  
A few dusty rays of sunlight, offering hope, broke through the clouds and poured into the cracks in the blinds. It's yellowish hue gushed into the room, like blood in an open wound, and glimmered off of the steel blade in the hand of the predator. The man in the blue T-shirt stood, and stepped towards Don. 

Caprice ran the back of her hand across the still boy’s soft cheeks. Rigamortis was far from setting in. His skin was still warm. And so was his blood. Caprice gently rolled his head to his right and exposed his neck. Slowly, and almost seductively, she leaned closer to the boy. She closed her eyes and inhaled as her fangs neared his neck. Soon, it was like falling victim to an addiction. Quenching a thirst. A thirst of years and years of drought. Her fangs dug deeply into his soft flesh. But as the blood passed her lips, and the life poured into her veins like a re-ignited flame, her fingernails gripped and almost tore at his wrists. Suddenly, his muscles began to quiver and convulse. A force began to run in his veins, not that of life, not yet, but instead something more. Something deadlier. His eyes opened, but he did not see. His hands closed and gripped her forearms, but did not feel anything. Life sparked in his heart, and ignited eternity. Immortality. His mouth opened, and tried to take in a breath, but only the faintest sound of gurgling emitted from within. Caprice’s long brunette hair trickled along his cheeks, and as his eyes came into focus on the one extremely bright light from above, he felt her long, soft hair tickle his delicate face. Immediately, breath poured into his lungs like a river of life, as his chest expanded. Caprice stood and wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. Jake lied still, breathing hard, slipping into a deep sleep. She watched as he threw his head around, as if having a nightmare. With a soft hand touching his cheek, he opened his eyes, and focused on Caprice’s beautiful face. He almost immediately calmed down.  
“Everything’s going to be okay now.” She said softly.  
He exhaled and drifted away on a sleepy cloud. 

***

Rain dashed down the desolate hallways of the hospital. All pale-white doors and windows have been closed and locked; standard ‘Lock-Down’ procedure. Lately, it has been a common sight in public places. His longer black hair waved behind him as he ran. Then, as he turned the corner, the first victim appeared. A security officer.  
As the officer lunged around the corner, Rain immediately found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. A shot rang out. Blistering past Rain’s ear as he dodged, and through his long black hair, the bullet cut through like through smoke. Without losing momentum, Rain drove his left elbow into the officer’s nose, connecting like a baseball bat on a hard-ball. The immense force knocked the man down, and before he could get his bearings, Rain opened up a spray of fire on the man struggling to his feet. Fire spilled out of the AR15 barrel, rupturing echoes far beyond the pale walls. Blood splattered these walls, and all-over the convulsing body. Rain stood still. Listening. His red lensed goggles drifted across reality with the reflection of bright, yet somber, groggy, lights above.  
“There’s one over here.” He heard a voice in the not too far distance, as he turned to look down the corridor to his right. Immediately, more security officers, armed and ready poured out of the hall. Aiming to kill. Their footsteps trotted, and distant screams of horror toiled in the bitter, horrifying silence.  
Shots rang out across the bare hallways, and pierced the utter stillness that followed the AR fire. Each shot clapping devastation, bouncing intent to kill across the bland and stuffy hallways of a place we now go to die.  
Time. For a man, time is a burden. But time seemed to stop in it’s tracks, as those bullets bombarded their course. For Rain is not an ordinary man. He smiled as the bullets passed right on through him. Harmless. Again and again they shot, but not a drop of blood dripped from the one wearing the goggles. He just stood there, smiling his baneful smile, clutching his assault rifle in one hand, pointing the deadly barrel at the floor.  
The five officers stopped and lowered their weapons, staring with open jaws at this phenomenon.  
“What the fuck...?”  
A trickle of dark gray smoke rose from the corners of his Rain’s mouth. His body rising into the air, evaporating and spreading into a dark cloud of smoke, swirling about the air like a droplet of dye in a glass of water. An evil laugh chuckled like a low-pitched growl across the desolate halls.  
Terrified, and trying to blink their eyes free from deception, the officers stood still, darting their attention off of every wall. Some backed themselves against others, like as if they were cornered.  
“What the fuck was that?” asked one of the officers.  
“Did you all see what I saw?” asked another.  
“What the hell is going on?!”  
The bland light from above began to flicker on and off. The officers looked to the ceiling and across the desolate halls at the lights that wavered as well. All of them knowing it to be the work of a higher force. No one spoke anymore. No-one breathed loudly. All, too afraid to run. All too afraid to scream. They all just looked up at the ceiling. Dispite the fact that the lights of the entire floor flickered, they watched the light flicker above, as though it was their God. Would it go out for good? What will become? It flickered. It trembled. Darkness. Screams of terror and pain cried out as blood sprayed the white walls.

The lights on the main level failed soon afterward, and left the small amounts of light pouring through the blinds to illuminate most of the bottom floor. The people let out short shrill cries, as the lights went out. Don barked at them to shut up as he continued to stare out the blinds. From what he could see, was a few sets of red and blue flashing lights, positioned around the exits. He couldn’t make out much more outside of the blinds. It was just too bright, and the sun burned his eyes. He shuddered and recoiled back behind the closed blinds. Slightly blinded by the sun, he turned around. A strong hand grabbed the barrel of Don’s Uzi and pointed to the ceiling. The man in the blue T-shirt raised the blade high and slammed it deep into Donalbain’s left shoulder, closer to the neck. Don let out a cry of pain, as he fell to one knee. The massive man cocked back his enormous right arm and pounded a stone-like fist into Don’s face. Barely phased, Don looked up at the man in blue through the holes in his black belaclava. Baffled as to why the terrorist hasn’t fallen over, the man in blue raised his fist again. Don immediately stood up and gripped hold of the big man’s neck. Lifting him clean off his feet, as the knife handle protruded from his shoulder. The crowd screamed and huddled together. With in-human strength, Don tossed the man across the room, like a discus. The man’s body slammed into the marble wall, sending scattering cracks slithering out from the point of impact, the man’s body tumbling to the ground in a dusty cloud. He was undoubtedly killed on impact. Donalbain looked over at his shoulder and slowly pulled the blade out of his flesh. Blood dripped onto the floor of the hospital, collecting in small puddles.  
“Anyone else want a piece?!” Yelled Don at the cowering crowd. Outstretching his stalky arms. The blade fresh out of his skin, dripping in his hand. “Your all going to die anyway! Come get some!”  
“Don!” Cried Eva, as she rushed back into the room. “You fucking bumbling idiot! Your hurt!”  
“I’ll be okay...” He said, pushing her away from him, as he nursed the wound in his shoulder.  
“Never turn your back to them!” She growled. She felt like she wanted to smack him. Donalbain looked down the desolate hallway and wished for it to all be over. “Come on, Rain! Hurry!”

Darkness on the upper floor was split by the shaky, bloody hand that flicked-on a flashlight. The security officer pressed his back up against the wall, as he dragged his heavy body across the bloody floor. Panting, and frightened gasps tore into him, as pain ran up his torso. His legs were broken. Shaking heavily, he slowly ran the beam of light across whatever was in front of him. A bloody wall. A dead comrade, partially visible in the small, bright circle of light, offered by the flashlight. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but the officer still waved it around. Soon, the predator was visible. Amidst the bloody surroundings, and the overpowering darkness, a creature growls as the light finds it. Not a creature from the dark streets at night, but instead, one that’s far worse. One that seems to be more like a phantom. With it’s long black hair, and tall, dark figure, it seems to be a part of the darkness. Flowing into the shadows like liquid, it stands. Two circular red orbs and a set of razor sharp teeth, hunger flesh and thirst for blood. As the officer’s breath escapes him for the last time, so too does a terrified cry.

Outside the hospital, the muffled sounds of a police megaphone was heard barking appeasement. Don staggered from the ground, and out of Eva’s grip again and peered out of the window again. Many more police vehicles and cameras began popping up. Don pulled himself from the window and gripped one of his uzi’s in his right hand. “Look, you mother-fucks...” Yelled Don at the crowd. “Anyone else feel like being a hero?! Come and give it a whirl! Like I said, you are all going to die anyway!”  
“I say we kill them all right now.” Growled Eva.  
“Not yet, my dear.” 

***

The chief of police’s cruiser languidly rolled up to the crowd amassing outside the hospital. Camera crews and reporters immediately shifted their attention away from the motionless glass doors on the hospital, and into the close-up shots on the old, fat and tired, Chief Bingham.  
“Chief Bingham, is it true that you were attacked in your home by one of the creatures?” Asked one of the many reporters, shoving a microphone in his face. His pudgy fingers and palm shoved a camera out of his face as he muttered curses and began to make his way through the crowd.  
“Do you still hate the non-conformers?”  
“Get out of my fucking face.” He grumbled as he pushed his way through the crowd, and fellow officers held back reporters and ordered them to back up.  
“Chief, glad you could make it.” Said the young officer, Eddie.  
“What the fuck is going on here?!?” Snapped the sweaty Chief. His breath froze in the air, and spat from his mouth, like smoke.  
“We got two, maybe three assailants in there. They’ve got the place pinned down. All we know, is that they are taking hostages, and that they are heavily armed and dangerous.”  
“What are they after?”  
“...We don't know.” 

As the small circular splatters of blood run down the wall, the shadow that engulfs it slowly takes a human shape. Through the shiny steel doorknob, darkness turns, and a man steps out of the shadows. A black-leather hand grips it, and turns it without a sound. As Rain steps into the room, a reddish-glow pours over him, and complements the blood-red lenses that he hides behind. He makes his way past the high shelves of jarred specimens and the human skeleton, hanging in the standing position. It’s jaw, hung open, like a cynical laugh was conjured up from it’s bony cage. Rain strapped the Assault rifle to his back, as he neared the chest-freezer. As he placed his hands on it, he closed his eyes. And drifted away from reality for a second to remember. 

He remembered the cold, biting air grip his hands, as they gripped the frosty lid of the freezer. The dusty and dank air of the cellar filled his lungs, and burned into his memory. For nowadays, he hated the smell of that basement. And all to do with it, from this moment on. With darkness all around him, the putrid smell of that freezer will never be forgotten. For a few minuets, that seemed to pass like seconds, he stared at the body, curled up inside. Mortified. The body of a young girl. Her face, as white as a ghost, and the expression of horror frozen into her plush skin. Horrified, he slammed it shut, and leaned upon it, like a casket, and cried on top of it. Covering his face in his arms, he pounded the top of the freezer, and cried. He was afraid. Afraid of what he has become. A monster like this. A monster like the one that killed this girl, and does so relentlessly.  
A hand reached out and grabbed Rain’s shoulder. He spun around, and came face to face with the old man. The hands immediately grabbed Rain’s face, and felt the warmth on his cheeks. Flare’s long, thin finger’s buried in Rain’s long, flowing hair, and gently coaxed him to stare into those gray, delicate eyes.  
“Rain, you must understand. We are Vampires! And vampires need to survive! No matter what we kill, no matter who we hurt, we will always be taking lives.” Rain tried to look away, but Flare’s old strong hands, re-locked Rain’s eyes into his. “We were born murderers. We were born monsters! Whoever we kill, it will always be someone’s child! Someone’s mother, someone’s friend, someone’s grandfather! And we are FORCED to kill. If I am guilty of one thing, I am guilty of trying... trying to survive! This world... this cold, brutal world, is all we have! You are what you are, and you have no other choice. Dead or alive you and I... are monsters!” The echo of his voice will forever scar Rain’s heart. And rings in his ears to this day. “Monsters!” 

Rain snapped back into reality, and ran his hand across the cool, smooth surface of the freezer that sat in front of him. He opened it slowly, and looked down upon the bags of blood, ready to be de-thawed for use in transplants and surgery.  
A hand gripped his shoulder, and Rain spun around.  
“Rain.”  
“Eva?”  
The dark, reddish glow that engulfed the room almost camouflaged Eva’s deep, red leather suit that covered her entire body. She seemed to blend into the color of the room like a drop of blood in a crimson sea. She swung the pack off her back, and handed it to Rain. “Hurry.” She said, looking over her shoulder.  
They began to fill the pack with the bags of frozen blood. For them, it was like robbing a bank. When the bag was full, Rain tightened the straps on it, and as he did, Eva grabbed his hand.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked sweetly. Rain avoided looking into her eyes.  
“Nothing.”  
She just stared at him, as he remained still, clutching the bag. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to bring him closer, but he remained so cold. She slowly released her grip on his hand, and raised it to his handsome face. Those goggles, that seemed to sit like puddles of blood, separated their gazes. Before she was able to run the backs of her fingers across his face, he turned away again. 

Donalbain peeked out the window again, and ducked out of sight cautiously, for he knew the snipers on the rooftops were probably all over his window. The red and blue lights seemed to be consumed by the orangeish red sunset that seeped through the cracks of the hospital windows. Dusty-red rays of light beamed through the venison blinds that Donalbain stood beside, pressing his back against the wall. His one hand clutching his wound, the other, gripped an eager uzi. He let go of his side to reach for his radio.  
“Rain, Where the fuck are you?” He asked, pulling the blinds down, just enough to peer through with the barrel of the uzi.  
“We are in the elevator, headed to the basement.” Replied Eva’s sweet voice.  
“Are you sure the charges are set to go?”  
“Yes. A soon as you are clear of the blast radius, you detonate them.  
“Oh, I’m far ahead of you, baby.” Said Don, as he reached into his pocket and grabbed the detonator.  
“Don't worry about us. If you find yourself in danger, set them off. You know where to meet us.” 

***

Bingham stood in a circle of officers, far out in the lot, outside the hospital doors.  
“Okay, I want your best swat team to enter the building, as soon as we get a visual. What can the snipers tell us?”  
Eddie lowered his cell phone to answer the question. “The snipers cannot see much of anything. all they have, is one male that's heavily armed by the window.” He listened to the cell for a second, then, continued. “They could get a shot off on the one by the window.”  
“No, Don't. Wait for the swat team to enter the building. Then, we’ll see what has to be done.”  
“Sir!” Another officer approached Bingham. “The assailants have killed the lights, but the power is still on-line. Its a slim chance, but we might be able to patch into the security cameras, and have a look inside.”  
“Do it. And Do it fast. I want to know exactly how many terrorists are in there, and in what shape are the hostages.”  
“Don't worry.” Said another officers. “We got the best swat team in the city on it. As soon as that swat team enters that building, someone is gonna die.”  
There was a pause of silence that slid underneath the commotion around them, and the sirens in the distance.  
“Sir!” Said Eddie, covering the receiver on the cell. “The snipers have a clean shot on the blue-haired terrorist.”  
“No! I said! Wait for the swat team to show up.” His raspy voice gargled, with his own saliva.  
“... ... Ray... Time is something we don't have.” Said Eddie.  
Bingham paused and looked at the bright orangeish red-sunset that began to fall, and reflected it’s hellish orange glow off the tops of the melting piles of snow. Darkness would soon consume the streets. Bingham’s fat heart began to race, as he stuffed a cigar into his mouth and lit it, staring into that bastard of a sunset. 

***

The lights inside the elevator were dim and blinking. Casting a claustrophobic atmosphere inside. And the murky light that momentarily lapsed in and out and made it somehow hard to breathe. Rain and Eva reached the basement floor, and the door began to open. But as Rain took a step towards the door, Eva blocked the exit and pushed the button for the door to close again. Trapping him inside. She dropped the pack onto the floor, and stepped towards him. Gently, she shoved him up against the wall, and pressed her perfectly figured body up against his. Rain delicately placed his hand on her hips to push her away, but something compelled him to let this happen, and his muscles froze. She leaned in closer and began to kiss his neck. A breath escaped his lips, and fueled her fire. She gasped, and ran her hand down his chiseled body. Her lips immediately reached his, and craved him. His head slightly tilted back, and out of reach for her to kiss him. “Please, don't.” He said. Her hand gripped the back of his neck, and her nails scratched with passion. He shoved her away. For his heart did not belong to her. It belonged to Caprice. He shoved the doors open and with the pack of blood in hand, he disappeared into the darkness on the other side. Eva stood in the elevator and watched him vanish into the shadows. For a second, she closed her eyes, and remembered a time so long ago. A time that she tries to re-live in her mind every day. Subconsciously, she fidgets with the wedding ring on her left ring finger, and remembers a once sweet sorrow. 

***

-Radio signal-  
“Don” ... “Don, where are you?”  
“I’m here, Rain.”  
“Do it now.”  
“You got it.” 

 

A tile moved in the ceiling, and all was still inside the hospital. Still. The panic is no more. Instead, silence filled the air. The tile moved aside, and a man in a black tactical uniform jumped down to the ground, with virtually no sound. As he hit the floor, he readied his sub-machine gun and scanned around the area. Silence. ‘S.W.A.T. Special Forces’ written across his back, and ‘Charlie’ written on his shoulder. It was dark, but the light that seeped in from the closed blinds was that of the last bright vitality of sunset rays. The special forces man signaled for the others to follow him, as he began creeping down the hallway. And the rest of the tactical men dropped down one by one. The leader Charlie pressed his back up against the wall, at the corner, and listened. Hesitating to look on the other side. 

Outside, Bingham watched and held his breath, much like the rest of the officers outside. Only, the silence on the outside was broken by the voice of a computer tech. “Chief Bingham, we have patched into the security cameras.”  
Bingham and other officers immediately crowded around a monitor, set up on the hood of a cruiser, and stared at the black and white feed, from inside the hospital. On the somewhat fuzzy screen, there stood Special Forces leader, Charlie, pressing his back up against the wall.  
“Scan through the channels.” Ordered Bingham, his raspy voice out of breath, and muffled by the cigar.  
“I want to see all the cameras.”  
The computer tech began to switch through the camera channels, and Bingham leaned closer to the monitor for a better look. The next channel; Darkness. The next; Darkness as well. Most channels showed nothing. Some, showed desolate hallways.  
But then, it came to the camera that watched over the room in which Don guarded. Horror filled the eyes of the Chief, and a state of shock and disbelief washed over all that stared at the monitor. An officer watching the monitor over Bingham’s shoulder covered his mouth in shock.  
“No.” Whispered Bingham. 

A manhole cover moved in the middle of an empty street, and Rain peered out. Surveying the area, he climbed out and reached for Eva’s hand to help her out. Headlights of a van came around the corner and glistened on their bodies. The window rolled down.  
“Hurry, we don't have much time.” Said Flare.  
“Where’s Don?” asked Eva.  
“He’s waiting on the next block. Get in.” 

Charlie and the team of about five, collected at the corner, as Charlie peered around it. “All clear.” He said as he stepped around the corner, took a few steps, and froze in his place. Bodies. Bodies everywhere. No gun wounds. No shells on the floor. Just blood. The rest of the team walked in and began to spread out. Charlie knelt down by one of the bodies and rolled it’s head to the side. Bite marks. Someone, or something with fangs, has torn almost the entire shoulder off the body.  
“What the fuck?” Whispered Charlie. Slowly, he stood up, and swallowed hard. A million different questions and scenarios played in his head. None of them seemed logical. What kind of monster could have done this?  
“Sir. I think you should see this.” Said another S.W.A.T member. 

And there it was. 

The team gathered at the foot of the phenomenon.  
A huge white brick wall. A message written in blood. Each letter dripped tiny rivers, like as if the wall itself was bleeding out it’s anger to the world. Each line was about ten inches thick, and each capital character was about three feet high. “FREE HAVEN”

The van screeched to a halt around the corner, and the sliding door opened. Rain reached out, grabbed Donalbain and helped him in the van. The sun shone through the windshield and reflected off of rain’s goggles as the van calmly rolled into the sunset. No one said anything. Flare glanced down at the bag in Eva’s arms, and smiled. Donalbain looked at his hands, palms upwards, and watched them tremble. They were covered in blood. Rain avoided eye contact with Don. Though he wasn't disgusted by the blood on Donalbain’s hands, nor with Don at all. But instead, he was disgusted with himself. 

 

Chapter 9 (Haunted Past)

The two open balcony doors pour the cold air outside through the drifting curtains and through the already icy soul of a man, once so warm. Only the light from the dying sunset lights his lonely living-room. The tall shadows reach over him like a dark, thin hand; here to take happiness away once again. Salvo sits alone on the couch, staring blankly at the random objects on his coffee table in front of him. He especially liked the way the tall, un-corked bottle glistened in the sunset. And the escape this bottle wielded inside.  
His eyes rolled back in his head, as he let his mind drift away on the intoxicating cloud of alcohol.  
Glimmering on the shelf to his left, a golden picture-frame reflected the light of the sunset and danced across his face. He lifted his tired muscles and stumbled over to the picture. Inside, were the two most important things in his entire life. The love of his life. His family. His hands began to tremble, as he held the picture in his ice cold hands. Oh, how magnificently beautiful she was in her short time here on earth. And his little girl, whom would always have her mother’s smile. A tear dropped onto the glass of the frame, and nearly froze to it. For he didn't feel the cold. Much like how he hasn’t felt much of anything since that night. With her, a giant piece of him went with her. Slowly, and ever so gently, he began to remove the picture from the golden frame, and slid it out from behind the glass. He read the date on the back and sighed.  
“Ten years.” He whispered to no-one. 

Suddenly, he wasn't alone. Tilting the glass frame slightly to see what was behind him, the only movement revealed in the reflection was that of the swaying curtains.  
“Who’s there?” He yelled, and spun around, dizzily. “Show yourself!”  
He moved slowly to the balcony that overlooked the city below. The frosty air became more noticeable to him, as he neared the open doors, but it was not the reason for the standing hairs on the back of his neck. The sunset casted strong rays of orange light into the living-room, and engulfed him inside the long, finger-like shadows.  
“You killed her didn't you.” Said the sweet voice of a young woman. Sal reached to the back of his pants and pulled out his Glock. Staggering across the living room, he makes his way closer to the balcony. Closer to the sunset.  
“You killed her...” She began. Sal steadied the gun in front of him and turned the corner, training the gun on the intruder. “Because you loved her.” She said.  
“Caprice.” Said Sal, lowering the gun.  
“And what happened to your daughter?”  
“This is none of your business, little girl.”  
“Yes, it is.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I loved that girl too.”  
Salvo put the gun down on the patio table and stared back at Caprice with cold eyes.  
“I had no choice. She was a monster... like you.”  
“Keith...”  
“She was an animal. A flesh-eating animal. Like all vampires.” Caprice took a step back, as he came closer.  
“Don't say that.” She whimpered. “All these years... All these times we’ve been together, that’s all you thought... of me and my kind? Don't those years mean anything to you?”  
“I had no choice... I had no choice.”  
A tear began to ball up in Caprice’s dark, beautiful eyes.  
He killed her. Out of love. Out of mercy. It would be the first vampire he would kill. Triggering off a massacre. One night, he came home to find her in her bed. Blood, everywhere. Yet somewhere within the blur of him crying over her body, she breathed life once again.  
“A man would do anything to protect his family. Even from each other. And when she came near my daughter, I... I couldn't let her take my daughter.”  
“Samantha?”  
“My little girl.”  
Caprice swallowed hard, and a more vicious tone took to her voice.  
“Did you kill Samantha?” She asked. Salvo said nothing. “Did you?”  
Sal took a step even closer to Caprice, and she stepped back pressing her back up against the railing of the balcony edge. This, would be the first time she was afraid of him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.  
“What do you think?” He snapped.  
“Keith, don't.”  
“What does a man have to live for when everything he had ever loved is gone?” Yet again, he came closer. Her eyes trained on his, like as if she was a cornered animal.  
“Take another step, and I will kill you.”  
He looked her up and down, before stepping back.  
“You know me better than that.”  
“No. I thought I knew you.” She snapped.  
Sal walked back into the living-room, and grabbed the bottle off the living-room coffee table, along with a glass. He then, turned back towards the balcony and poured himself a drink. “Beauty... the adjustment of all parts proportionately so that one cannot add, or subtract, or change without impairing the harmony of the whole.” He lifted the glass to the light and watched how the liquid glimmered off the red sunset, now almost completely drowned in the horizon. “Leon Battista Alberti.”  
“Cute.” Said Caprice, obviously unamused, she crossed her arms in front of her.  
“My life was beautiful. I felt as if, my life was in complete harmony. Then all in one day... in one moment, it was gone.” He took a hearty drink and sat down in a chair on the patio. “It would seem... in that very moment... that nothing was real. It was like as if... all my beliefs were never real.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, lit one and leaned into his chair. Caprice’s eyes, that never left his, were the only things colder than the air that waived through her dark hair.  
“You loved your wife with all your heart, didn't you.”  
Sal snapped the lid shut on his zippo, and blew a cloud into the cold air.  
“Yes, I did. She was beautiful. But... that creature... that vampire that turned her... he didn't just bite her. He mutilated her.”  
“Keith...” She started, trying to let him know, that he didn't have to talk about it if it made him uncomfortable.  
“He managed to tare most of the skin off her face, chest, stomach and her left arm. He... drank his fill, and left her to die in her own bed.”  
“That’s when you found her?”  
He flicked the ashes of his cigarette into the wind, and paused to collect his thoughts.  
“Yes... ... I still remember the smell of that god-dammed hospital. I hate that smell.” A long puff on that cigarette, and leaned forward in his chair. Resting his arms, on his knees. “She looked so tired... so weak... I still remember the feeling of her hand in mine. And the life that pumped through it, before she died...”

The uncomfortably bright lights of the hospital room, pounded on the tired eyes, of a man whom had no more tears to shed. His eyes were red and worn, his heart, was heavy and broken. A heart monitor beeps and beeps a steady beat. Yet Keith hasn’t moved from the chair by her side for hours. He just held her hand, and stroked it gently. Bandages covered nearly her entire body, and the one good arm, that the monster spared her, was pillaged with intravenous’. Earlier that day, the nurse discovered that, while unable to speak, she was able to communicate using a pad of paper and a pen. Nightmares haunted every night, and pain possessed every waking hour. She tried to tell him about the dreams, using the paper, but her writing barely made sense. Yet Keith felt helpless. Helpless to just sit there and cry. She was his everything. She was his world.  
“Daddy?”  
Keith turned around and set his red, puffy eyes on his little girl, as he wiped his eves on his sleeve.  
“Sammie...” he choked out.  
“Is mommy going to be okay?”  
He put his wife’s hand down, and knelt on one knee, to look into his daughter’s eyes.  
“Mommy will be fine.” He lied. Just then, a gurgle emitted from his wife’s throat, and he rushed over to her side. “I’m here, baby. Shh, don't speak.” He said gently.  
Keith placed the pad under her hand, and gave her the pen. She scratched into the pad.  
A nurse entered the room, and Sal asked for his daughter to be removed from the room. Sammie cried and called out for her mother.  
“What is it, Baby? I’m here. I’m right here.”  
She took her hand away from the pad, yet the pen had run dry of ink, leaving a blank pad.  
“Mr .Salvolech?” Asked the nurse.  
“Leave us alone!” He ordered, and broke into tears again as he looked closely at the pad of paper. Scratched into the pad, by the sharp pen tip, three capital letters were carved. Keith knew this was going to be the end. Keith knew, that this was the last moment he would spend in his wife’s presence. He cried and squeezed her hand, pressing it up against his face.  
“I love you~” He cried “I love you!” 

 

Fine, puffy flakes clumped together and descended from the heavens. Silence returned to the streets, now engulfed in an ominous shadow. Sal and Caprice both looked out to the darkness, and thought of the creatures that would soon gather in the far darkest corners of the city. Caprice placed a gentle hand on Salvo’s shoulder, to offer some comfort. But Sal would have nothing to do with it.  
“Don't touch me.” He snapped. “In a few day’s you will want me dead, too.”  
“Why?”  
Keith gathered his thoughts and puffed on his cigarette. “I have a warrant for your leader’s arrest.”  
“What?”  
“You heard me.”  
“How do you know Flare?”  
“Oh, everyone knows Mr. Killbourne.”  
“A warrant? Or a hit?”  
“It doesn’t matter. Flare is going down. Why don't you tell him to run and hide.”  
“He’ll never run. You’ll never get to him.”  
“It’s only a matter of time, now.”  
Caprice just stood there and stared at him in disgust.  
“A cop... A vampire hunter... and now a bounty hunter... ... What happened to you?”  
He took a giant gulp from his glass, and looked away from her.  
“The Keith you know is dead...”  
Caprice looked insulted.  
“No, he’s not. I can see him in your eyes.”  
A moment of silence stood in the air, as Sal took the last drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the frosty air.  
“Leave me alone.” He pressed the glowing tip of the cigarette into his palm, and extinguished the flame. As he looked up, Caprice was gone.  
He leaned back in the balcony chair, and grabbed the gun off the table. His memory of that retched hospital still fresh in his mind. For that night wasn't just the end of days for his wife. It was also the end of Keith Salvolech. And the birth of someone terrible. He shal never forget that night. Nor the three letters scratched into that notepad.  
‘D.N.R.’ Do Not Resuscitate. 

 

Chapter 10 (Just a vampire)

The soft rolling hills seemed to go on forever, from this point ontop of the world. The birds fluttered in and out of the wild grass that wavered in the wind, and reached up to the stars that made themselves visible in the afternoon’s sunny glow. ‘Twas Spring. ‘Twas a thing of beauty. Jake sat comfortably on the hill, and pulled out long strands of grass by the roots, and stared into the distance. Yet inside, he was anything but comfortable. He was nervous, scared, excited, and in love. His hands could find little to do, other than fidget. Yet, soon he realized how obvious he was making his restlessness, and tossed the grass into the wind before laying into the soft checkerboard blanket. Laid out with care. As he let in and out a sigh, he opened his eyes to the sunset, and wished for the moment to freeze. Wished for time to stop.  
The sun kissed her beautiful blond hair, and made her seem like an angel. Setting her aglow, as she swayed ever so slightly on the wooden and twine-rope swing tied in the nearby tree.  
“Jake...” she called out.  
“Yes?”  
“Look!” she pointed out to the sky behind him.  
And as he turned, the sky began to fill with dark clouds, and rolled like dusty boulders. Multiplying, as they neared. Shadows washed over the grassy fields, and the wind began to pick up speed, and what seemed like anger. Confused, he turned back to her, but she no longer sat in the swing. Thunder began to boom, and Jake was soon surrounded by the darkness that spread like a plague. Movement in the grass was no longer the chirping birds, but now, something more. Something unearthly. Jake stood, but the earth seemed to spin around him, and the growling began to circle him. This dream was no longer a dream, but a nightmare.  
Then, something triggered inside of him. And the solution was simple.  
‘When you beat an animal, it does one of two things. It either becomes more aggressive, or submissive.’ Jake was tired of being scared. Tired of being alone, and defenseless. He faced the darkness, and his muscles tensed at his sides.  
“Come-on!” He barked into the shadows and waited for the creatures to come out. Fangs protruded from his jaws, as he grinned into the darkness.  
Those demonlike, unearthly eyes protruded from the shadows that surrounded him, and Jake could hear the thump of his heart, beating in his chest. And with every thump, another creature appeared in the darkness. And as the boy stood his ground, a low pitched growl irrupted behind him, and he turned to face what was behind him. There it stood. The most horrible demon imaginable. With the head of a canine, it stood on a muscular frame. It stood tall, on two legs, and was cloaked by a long, black coat of thick, oily hair. The claws seemed oversized for it’s long, slender arms. Drool poured from it’s mouth of razor sharp teeth, addicted to the taste of blood. But the most horrifying part of it, was it’s orb-like eyes. Orange and radiant. Like as if it could see right through him, and into all the sins that poisoned the soul it was here to claim.  
Before Jake could react, or fully understand what he was staring at, it reached for him. And the long, sharp claws gripped his face. 

Jake immediately woke up and sat up on the cold table where he was left to die. The light burned his eyes like fire. He sat up. Blocking the brightness from his tired eyes, he sat there and tried to focus. He felt like throwing up, but had nothing in his stomach.  
“Where am I?” he whispered to himself.  
The boy slid off the table and tried to stand as he realized that he wore only his pants. Once again. He was weak, and immediately collapsed onto the floor. Coughing violently. It was now, that he realized that his mouth was chapped and painful. It almost felt as though his jaw was broken. He reached into his mouth, to feel his swollen jaw, and felt two sharp fangs that he hadn’t noticed there before. Protruding about a centimeter higher than the rest.  
“What the...?” he whispered.  
He stood again, and hobbled to the door.  
Pushing it open, a cool breeze hit his half-naked body. Immediately, he recognized the hallway he was in. It was the hallway that Caprice took him down. Yet, it seemed to complex, and like a maze. It wasn't too long, until Jake came to his sentences and began to wonder around the deep, basement. The intricately decorated walls loomed over him. The tall, ominous pillars reminded him of medieval times, yet the red blood-red drapes and leather surfaces made it seem as if it has evolved. Like as if these walls have been here for hundreds of years, and has been up-kept, untouched by the wrong hands. It was cold, and as Jake crept along the decorated hallways, he soon became numb to the cold, and ignored it. Questions darted through his head again, and jumped him at every corner. Like flies, they festered inside him, and his only concern was to find the answers. Questions of what or where he was. What had happened to him. And most importantly, who or what is Rain. 

Soon, dust was in the air. He could smell it. He could taste it. And as he remembered where he smelled this before, his sense of direction and the recognition of his surroundings became clearer. He was nearing the living-room, in which he had met Flare.  
Jake could hear two people talking in the loving room. It was Flare and Donalbain. Yet instead of entering the room, Jake peered around the corner, and pressed his thin back up against the wall. Listening in on the conversation. Light, piano music played in the background, yet Jake could hear them talking clearly. He slowly slumped to the floor, and sat there, rubbing his eyes, forcing the drowsiness away. Listening. 

Donalbain stood behind the counter of the bar. The beautiful cherry-colored wooden cupboards and carefully polished mirrors glistened in the little amount of light that was offered from above. Don rolled up his white dress-shirt sleeves to wash a few murky glasses. Set his top-hat aside, and revealed the fading roots of a messy blue head of hair. Flare sat on a tall stool at the bar, staring at the counter. His long legs reaching the floor.  
“A bank... Why a bank?” asked Don.  
“Well, why do people rob banks, my friend?”  
“For money?”  
“Because they are desperate. And Scared.”  
Don poured Flare a glass of whiskey, and took a drink out of the tall bottle.  
“Are we that desperate?”  
“For attention, Don. We want the camera crews there this time. We need the world to hear what we have to say.”  
“You mean what Rain has to say.”  
“Now Don, Rain is just the team leader. A figurehead, if you will. I... I’m too old for you guys to rely on too heavily.”  
“Well, shit. We rely on the guy, sure. But a Figurehead?! Fuck that. You have any idea how many times, he has pulled my ass out of trouble?” Flare looked confused, so Don continued after another swig. “What I’m trying to say, Flare, is that we shouldn’t need to rely on him. I know. I was an idiot for messing things up in the past, but for fuck sakes, we shouldn’t work... with a leader. Because those creatures know that it is a weakness.” Don leaned closer to the old gray man and lowered his tone. “They’ll prey on it.”  
“What are you saying?”  
“Yes, we need him. But for crying out loud, don't let them know that.” Don whispered, pointing to the frosty windows. Across the living room.  
A long moment of silence passed, as Don and Flare thought about Rain. Then, after finally pouring himself a glass, Don leaned foreword and whispered. Staring straight into Flare’s cold, gray eyes.  
“What is he?”  
“What?”  
“Rain.” Don whispered. “Come on you old fucker!” A tinge of excitement in his voice. “Tell me what he is.”  
“Nothing.” Said Flare. “He’s nothing.” 

Jake rubbed his eyes, and realized that his drowsiness has left him. He crept closer to the doorway, to get a better listen. He then found himself peering around the corner, blatantly, carelessly, and backed off a little. Breathing softly. 

“Where does he go when he’s not here with us? What does he do? Where did he come from?”  
“He’s no different from you and I, Donalbain.”  
Don chuckled. “That’s Bullshit.”  
“Matters like that are best taken up with friends.”  
“I’ve been here for him for a long time. And we all love him. We do. He’s... he’s the older brother that takes care of us all.” Don raised the bottle to his lips again, but stopped to speak in mid motion. “But we all know that he’s something different.”  
“Who?”  
“Us... Our family.”  
Flare stood up to leave, and put his glass down as he walked away. His long, spider-like legs cast miles of shadow across the floor of the living-room. “We are a family, aren’t we, Flare?”  
Flare disappeared unto the darkness as he climbed the winding stairs. 

Peering around the corner, Jake watched as Flare ascended the stairs, then watched Don finish the bottle of whiskey. He then turned back to the hallway, and came face to face with two, red glowing lenses.  
“Do you beleve I’m just a vampire?” Asked Rain, as he sat there on the floor with the young lad. Staring him right in the eye. Jake didn't reply. He just sat there, frozen in fear. “Do... do you believe I’m something different?”  
“No.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I don't trust that man.”  
Rain stood up and walked around the corner, jesturing for Jake to follow.  
“Well, your right. Come on. I’ll show you how I do my magic.

\------------------Work unfinished ---------------


End file.
